Reversed Life
by stargaryen1831
Summary: Eragon never lived in Carvahall, but his half-brother, Murtagh did. Instead, Eragon took on the name of another as he bares the crest of the Empire, willingly, but will that change once he finds out for himself the choices he didn't know that exist? BELONGS TO Rainxoxo. JUST HERE FOR ARCHIVING PURPOSE. NOT MINE
1. AUTHORS NOTE

**WARNING PLEASE READ**

**the first think i would like to make clear is that this is not my story.**

**it was written by an amazing writer Rainxoxo whose stories are for some reason no longer on **

**I do not know if the site deleted it or he/she took it down. This is just copy pasted word to word. I have been unable to contact her and as such do not have permission to post the story, all my attempts have thus far failed.**

**This is one of if not the best inheritance story ever written, and as such I want people to read and appreciate the author and the work.**

**I am not taking any credit for the work.**

**I REPEAT I AM NOT TAKING ANY CREDIT.**

**So please do not troll me, and leave hate-filled comments accusing me of plagiarism.**

**Its not plagiarism if I give credit were its due.**

**This story is only being posted for archiving reasons.**

**So enjoy this amazing piece of work.**

**WARNING**

**COMPLETELY**** COPY PASTED**

**DOES NOT BELONG TO ME.**


	2. Chapter 1

**I do not own Eragon, but I wish I did. :) Nor do I own some of the characters in the story, a few are based off of other things that I like, for example, Gabranth, I borrowed his name and his outfit from Final Fantasy XII. I've also borrowed Bard and Finny from Black Butler, the anime, I will try to remain true to the characters and storyline with the exception of Eragon (and if you can't find out who Gabranth really is, I gave you a few hints.) Happy reading.**

Urû'baen, the black city, despite its name, was very beautiful and majestic. It was the capital of Alagaësia and in history was once known as the elves' long abandoned home, Iliera. But the most magnificent building in the city, besides the Black Citadel, was the large palace in which Galbatorix and his dragon, Shruikan, resided. Walking down the long hallways, through the stone columns on each side engraved with gold and silver, a tall armored man made his way to the throne room. Dark gray armor cloaked his body covering him entirely, and a helm covered his face, two sharp horns intricately hammered out of metal twisted on each side; a helm that had not been removed in public for over four years. A black cape was tied around the base of his neck, a red sigil on it representing the Empire.

The figure turned, standing before two colossal marble black doors. He turned to one of the guards; his already deep voice coming out deeper as it was muffled by his helm as he said, "His majesty is expecting me."

"Yes, my lord!" They saluted to him, before swinging the doors open. The throne room was grand with a white marble floor, a red carpet leading up to the golden throne. Sitting on his seat, wearing the finest armor and a white sword hanging from his hip was none other than King Galbatorix. He wasn't old. No, despite ruling Alagaësia for nearly a century, his hair was light silver and he had a matching beard. His black eyes never left the form of the tall person, a smile on his lips.

When the figure came to a stop before Galbatorix, he knelt on one knee, bringing his arm up against his chest. "Your highness," he spoke with respect.

Galbatorix's cold smile widened as he leaned forward to observe his loyal subject. Then he spoke, his voice rich and deep, unbefitting of his age. "You must be wondering why I've brought you here, Gabranth."

The figure nodded.

"You've heard of the capture of an elf by Durza, have you not?"

"I have."

"Good, that shall make things much easier," Galbatorix nodded in approval. "Durza, to my disappointment, has been unsuccessful in his endeavors to retrieve information. I am very displeased with his progress. As for the elf, I consider her useless. With the egg gone, there is no other choice for me but to send the Urgals to scout the Beor Mountains—a situation I consider most distasteful." He sighed. "As a reward for you unswerving loyalty, I would like to offer the elf to you as a gift, Gabranth. Do with her what you will. And while you're at Gil'ead, tell Durza how very disappointed I am."

"Thank you, your highness." His bowed head tilted upward as if to gaze at the king from behind his helm. "What exactly should I tell Durza?"

A cold laugh escaped his lips. "Whatever comes to mind."

"May I ask a question, your highness?"

"You may."

"Will I be appointed to lead the Urgals? Or shall Durza do it?"

"I'll have Durza handle it. But if anything goes wrong, you shall be doing it in his place. Now, I am tired. Gabranth, you are dismissed." Galbatorix gave a wave of his hand. The tall figure of Gabranth nodded before standing. He bowed one last time to Galbatorix before turning to leave, his metal boots clanking loudly on the floors as he did so.

_An elf, _a deep voice rumbled in his head, curiosity flooding his mind. _How did Durza ambush them, I wonder._

_He waited his turn and struck when the moment was right. A strategy that never fails. _He replied as he left the halls of the large palace and walked into the courtyard. A group of maids who were passing by curtsied to him before rushing inside. Gabranth made his way towards what resembled a large sapphire rock, was certainly not one. The blue hues began to move before a long neck stretched forth, blue eyes piercing him. A puff of black smoke erupted from the dragon's nostril as she snorted at the sight of him.

_Never hot are you? _Saphira asked, amusement coating her tone. He shrugged indifferently, climbing onto her saddle as he did so. _To Gil'ead, I presume?_

_Why ask if you already know?_

_It's always nice to ask,_ she answered. And with a stroke of her wings and the push of her hind legs, she dove forward into the air. The wind hissed past his helm as she accumulated height. _Are you curious as to what you might find with this elf?_

_I don't know yet. But there are some things I hope to ask her for myself. _On dragonback, Gil'ead was reachable within a day, but as they travelled Gabranth's thoughts kept on wandering back to why Galbatorix would hand over someone as valuable as the elf. If Durza had kept going then he might have been able to extract some information of the Varden's whereabouts, the elves' home, or the location of the missing red egg.

_There are some rumors going around that there is another dragon rider out there._

_The possibility is great that the egg has already hatched for someone._

_Could it be one of the Varden's people, or do you think it hatched for the elves?_

_I don't know._ They talked for a while on the possibilities of whether the dragon harbored a human or an elf as a rider. They even laughed when they thought of a dwarf being its rider. But eventually Saphira fell into her old routines of saying strange riddles to which Gabranth was always at a loss for an answer.

Eventually the sight of Gil'ead came into his line of vision and without further ado Saphira dove towards the keep, causing the soldiers to scramble out of the way to make room for her landing. _Go see the elf. Right now, I need to hunt._

_Come back safely, _he replied, as she spread her wings and took off yet again. Gabranth turned and nodded towards the soldiers who hurriedly bowed to him. Walking down the stairs of the keep, he made his way to the prison. A guard who stood inside the hall of cells bowed to him. "My lord."

"I'm here for the elf, where is she?" he asked. The guard frowned, fidgeting uneasily where he stood.

"Durza is interrogating her. He gave strict orders for no one to interfere."

"Where are they?" he repeated dangerously.

The guard stammered before answering in a small voice, "The dungeon." Gabranth nodded before leaving. Instead of making his way up through the building, he turned down the hallway and into a dark staircase. As he went lower, the sound of a whip slashing through the air floated up to him. However, the cry of pain that was expected failed to follow it. As per usual, two guards stood in front of the door, and they hurriedly bowed at his appearance.

"Lord Gabranth!" One exclaimed.

"What are you doing here?" the other asked.

"I'm here for the elf." He moved forward to open the door, but the guard grabbed his arm, before realizing what he had done and dropping it again hurriedly, as if stung.

"Durza said that no one was allowed to enter unless it was the king himself."

"The king gave me orders to be here. I'm sure that topples whatever he has to say." Without waiting, Gabranth threw the door open before entering the dungeon. It was similar to any other dungeon; cold and dark, with a few candles lit up on the wall. Torture mechanisms layered the gray bricks and some tables were scattered around. To the front of the room was a flogging pole and tied to it was an elf. But then something happened that he wasn't expecting.

As he set eyes on the elf, a strange passion awoke in him as well as a burning rage he had never felt before in his entire life. She was beautiful. Her long black hair framed her angular face, marred only by a scar running from her jaw to her chin. Her eyes were slanted like a cat's, the green orbs bright with pain. Her ears tapered to points at their tips. Both her hands were tied above her head, and she was shirtless. Ignoring that fact, he closed the door, bolting it shut. Standing in front of the injured elf was a tall shade, his hair crimson bright and his maroon eyes filled with anger.

"Who gave you permission to step in here?" Durza growled, turning his attention away from the elf. Gabranth laughed mockingly.

"Permission? My title is far above yours, Durza." He answered walking forward, his cape billowing softly behind him. "And if you have to ask, the king ordered me here. He's very disappointed with the lack of information you have been able to obtain from the elf."

He let out a shout, before raising his hand with the whip. However, before he could strike, Gabranth's hand flew up to grip his in an iron clutch, preventing any movement. "My, this anger is unnecessary. Do not take your failures out on the elf." He threw Durza's arm away, "Besides, his majesty has decided that I get her."

"You?" Durza hissed. He nodded.

"The elf is now mine, and as such, you shall not touch her." letting out a frustrated yell, the shade threw down the whip and stormed out of the room. He laughed but only momentarily before turning to the injured elf. Seeing a black tunic lying on the table he grabbed it, untying her hands, he reached out and gently supported her ignoring her ice cold glare. "Such a wonderful thank you for someone who saved you. Can you put this on, or do you need me to?"

In a flurry of motions, she grabbed the tunic from his hands before donning it, when she was done, he glanced at her before, in one fluid motion, cradling her in his arms. "Stay still—you are in no condition to walk, elf."

She didn't respond, instead glancing away. Exiting the dungeon, Gabranth nodded to the two guards. Instead of bringing her back to her cell, he brought her to the room that he would usually stay in while visiting Gil'ead. Placing her on his large bed, he ignored her startled stare. With unnatural strength, he brought her tunic up over her head, baring her again from waist up. He caught her arm as it swung for his helm. "It won't do you any good if you try to attack me. You'll only injure yourself even further."

Flipping her onto her stomach, he placed his free hand on the skin. The elf's back was strong and muscled, but it was covered with scabs that made her skin look like dry, cracked mud. She had been whipped mercilessly and branded with hot irons, seemingly in the shape of claws. Where her skin was still intact, it was purple or black from numerous beatings. On her left shoulder was a tattoo inscribed with indigo ink. Durza would be punished for this. Channeling the magic into his palms, he murmured the healing spell. "Waíse heill."

A burn shimmered under his palm, and then new unmarked skin flowed over it, joining together in its place. Passing over the bruises and wounds that were not serious, he saved the muscles and inner injuries for last. When he was finally done, he threw her tunic at her.

"Here."

Turning his back, he heard the rustle of clothing before all was silent. He faced the elf once again, ignoring the curious stare in her bright green eyes. Grabbing her chin, he pulled her close to him until he could feel her breath on his helm. The scar on her face wasn't fresh. Healing it, he let go of her, watching as she rubbed the spot where he had grabbed her. "I'm hoping that those were the only injuries Durza gave you, elf."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her rich voice accented and exotic.

He chuckled. "Why indeed?" Turning from her, he went to throw the windows wide open, letting fresh air into the room. "But you didn't answer my questions, elf. Was that the only thing Durza did to you?"

Her lips formed a hard line, and she refused to answer. He sighed, calling for a maid. Instantly, a young girl walked in, curtsying as she saw him. "My lord, you called?"

"Yes, bring me the healer. Tell him to make haste, for I do not have the time to wait around forever." She nodded, curtsying one last time before leaving. When she was gone, he turned back to the elf. "If you don't want to die, I suggest you cooperate willingly."

"You give me no reason to trust you." She replied. He snorted.

"I also gave you no reason to distrust me. You see, just because I bare the crest of the Empire does not mean that I like it," said Gabranth. "By the way, what is your name?"

She didn't reply, he continued as if she did. "Well then, I will simply have to call you elf, don't I? You can call me, Eragon." Before he could stop it, the name left his lips, shocking both himself and her. The door opened and in walked a healer and the maid.

"Is there anything else you need, my lord?"

"Yes, bring some food up, but no meat," he ordered, and she nodded and left, while the healer stepped forward.

"You called for me, Lord Gabranth?" He nodded and pointed to the elf.

"Do you know of the injuries that Durza had given her?"

"I do. Every morning I would bring Durza a vial of Tunivor's Nectar to stop the Skilna Bragh's progress within her blood stream." He nodded, ordering the healer to bring her the antidote. He watched as the man hurriedly left the room to retrieve the medicine.

"Why are you helping me?" the elf repeated, staring at him as if trying to decrypt a puzzle she could not overcome. A sigh escaped his lips.

"Is it so wrong of me for wanting to help you? I've told you before I may work for Galbatorix, but that doesn't mean I do it willingly." He shrugged. "You'll be grateful when you have enough energy to escape Gil'ead. A boring place compared to your lush green forest, no?"

She didn't answer, instead continuing to stare at him. "You want me to escape?" she said slowly, as if making certain that he had truly said the words himself.

"Who said I wanted you to? But if you did, I would not try to stop you."

"You are a strange person."

"My, my, my, we're starting to have a proper conversation here." The door opened again and the healer walked in with a glass bottle in his hands containing a strange golden liquid. Taking it from him, Gabranth made his way to the elf on his bed. "Now, I will give you two choices. You drink the antidote, or I make you drink it."

When he held it out to her, she reluctantly took it before downing the bottle. When she was done, she handed it back to him. He returned it to the healer, thanking him. "It is of little consequence. If you need me, please call."

"I shall see if I can use your skills in the near future." The healer bowed in reply and left the room. He turned back to the elf. "You can rest in here. None of the guards will force themselves on you. I will call when the food is brought up so that you can eat."

"I…trust you." She said hesitantly, before lying down on the mattress pulling the covers over her. He stared for a long time at her sleeping figure before turning to the library behind him and pulling out a book to read. Nearly an hour and a half passed before the maid returned with a tray laden with food. She hurriedly placed it on his table, before making a hasty exit.

Gabranth went to wake the elf, not wanting the soup to cool. When he walked over to the side of the bed, he felt a strange feeling in his heart as he stared down at her, a feeling that he had never felt in his life. Reaching out with a hand, he gently shook the elf. "Don't sleep the whole day away. You need to eat like the rest of the world, elf."

When she blinked, he withdrew his hand strolling back to take a seat in his chair by the table. He kicked the chair opposite him outwards. "Sit down and eat." She threw him a cold glare, before with a slinking muscular grace walked over to the table and taking a seat. She must not be used to being ordered around, he assumed, as he resumed reading. "The soup will get cold if you're just going to stare at it," he said, never taking his eyes off of the page.

"Will you not eat?"

He hesitated. "I will eat when you're sleeping. I do not feel comfortable removing my helm in the presence of others." She nodded slowly, picking up the spoon and taking a sip out of the steaming vegetable soup.

"Why is that?"

He chuckled. "For someone who doesn't answer my questions, you certainly ask a lot."

"You don't have to answer if you do not wish to. If I remember correctly, I am your prisoner." He sighed, placing his book down to stare at her from the openings in his helm.

"I abandoned my identity long ago. Still, it seems that no matter how hard I try, I cannot let go of it entirely." He picked his book back up and turned the page. _You're very forthright with the elf._

_Does it matter?_ He replied.

_Of course it does! Besides to me, you're finally opening up to someone about yourself. You won't even speak a word to your mother about your reasons for half of the things you do_,Saphira replied. He glanced out the window to see a small speck in the sky. _What do you intend to do with her?_

_What else? Let her escape. I have no use for an elf_, he said.

_That simple?_

_I'm not a complicated person, you know that._

_Of course I do, that's why I do most of the thinking around these areas. I would like to meet your elf._ He bristled as Saphira labeled the elf his. _Well, she is your prisoner._

"Is something amiss?" the elf asked as she noticed his change in attitude.

"Somebody wants to meet you," He answered as a torrent of air swept through the room, blowing the pages in his book. Saphira landed next to the building, peering into the room with one of her large sapphire eyes. _Ask if I can personally speak to her. _"She wants to know if she can speak with you herself. I would be very grateful if you were to accept, for I do not enjoy playing the role of a messenger."

She nodded, seemingly trusting Saphira more than him. "You may."

He turned back to his book as the two females conversed with one another. It seemed that little by little, the elf seem to be relaxing in their presence, but still not entirely so. Caution outlined her every move, her every word. He spent the time wondering how Durza could possibly have ambushed them. When it was late, he closed his book placing it back on the bookshelf.

"It is late and you two need to sleep. Saphira, leave the elf alone." He marched up and closed the window earning a deep rumble from outside. She was amused at his antics. Before he could say another word, the elf was already climbing into his bed to sleep. _She is a very interesting person._

_Wouldn't you know? _He mumbled in his thoughts, his attention returning to the tray of food on the table. He was surprised to find a few things uneaten. The soup was gone along with an apple, but two pears and a berry cake remained. He smiled. In one swift motion, he removed his helm, placing it on the table and revealing his dark brown hair and matching brown eyes. But he didn't look like a human; no, far from it. Magic had altered his appearance until the tip of his ears became pointed, his eyes slanted, and his face more angular in shape. Bringing a pear to his mouth, he slowly ate it, savoring its sweet flavor.

_She's surprised that we serve Galbatorix even though he doesn't know our true name. Why do we, I wonder?_

_Because I have to protect my mother, you know that_, he replied, moving onto the next pear.

_Even so, don't forget that you have choices, Eragon. Do not condemn your life to this if you don't like it._

He grunted, knowing that she was right and hating her for it. Staring back at the elf, he frowned. What life was she living? Following the Varden? Fighting in a petty resistance group? What did she fight for? _Freedom, isn't that obvious?_

_At the cost of her own life? _He replied, tucking the blankets around her petite form to keep her warm. _Why am I doing this?_

_You care for her. There's no other explanation, _Saphira replied. _Isn't that wonderful?_

_If only, _he opened the window again to see her more clearly. Reaching out, he gently stroked her snout. _But I have you and my mother; what more do I need? It'll only make my life more complicated trying to protect everyone I care for._

_You are too sweet, _she replied, her blue eyes sparkling. She blew a puff of smoke out at him. _I must sleep, little one. You get some rest too._

_Good night, then._

The following morning, he entered the room to find the elf up and studying his collection of books. In his hands was a tray of food. "Good morning, it would seem." He greeted, catching sight of her. "How are you feeling, elf?"

She didn't reply, but instead pulled out a large voluminous book with the words on the spine faded out. He placed the tray on the table. "No thank you for bringing you breakfast or letting you sleep in my very spacious room?"

She glared at him. Gabranth sighed. "Is a thank you a little too much above your standards? You must be treated like a princess in Du Weldenvarden." He didn't notice how her back stiffened, handing her a salad. "Eat up; you need to regain your strength, don't you?"

She accepted it, her curious stare returning. "Why are you helping me so much?"

Gabranth folded his arms and leaned forward as if to study her from behind his helm. "Galbatorix gave you to me as a gift, and what use do I have for an elf? I would rather you escape than watch over you for the rest of my life. You're not doing any good sitting here talking to me. You have to help the Varden defeat Galbatorix, right?"

"Eventually, that would put us on different sides during war," she warned. He let out a laugh.

"Then please, take it easy on me. It would be poor thanks if you ended up killing your rescuer." She frowned at his light attitude.

"Why do you serve Galbatorix?" His light mood suddenly vanished. He refused to answer her. She, however, was not fazed by his silence, and simply continued eating. As they sat there in silence, the door opened and in walked Durza, a smile of triumph spread across his face. It faltered when he saw the elf, healthy and eating.

"I don't remember giving you the rights to enter my room as you please, Durza. Please do knock the next time," Gabranth warned, as he stood to speak to the shade.

"I do apologize, Gabranth," Durza said mockingly, before turning to the elf. "My, isn't his lordship treating you well?"

"Do not waste my time with idle chatter. Has something gone amiss?" His maroon eyes sparkled as he leaned in to whisper to Gabranth softly.

"We've caught a dragon rider, and wouldn't you like to know, it's your half-brother." At this, Gabranth immediately stiffened, nodding to Durza. "I assume you shall go to visit him?"

His voice was harsh and cold as he spoke, surprising the elf, who had but only seen his compassionate side. "Do not worry. I will be down shortly. I think thanks are in order. His majesty will be most pleased indeed."

"Maybe my title will be higher than yours in a few weeks." With that Durza left, sneering at the elf on his way out. _A dragon rider!_

_The egg the elf has been carrying must have hatched._ Eragon concluded, staring at the elf as she ate. _Maybe if we—_

_Eragon! If Galbatorix found out were you to do that, you know what he would do to you._

_Then maybe I might have a just excuse to join the Varden. _At this Saphira quieted, he could hear the gears turning in her head before a deep rumble filled the air at her sudden cheeriness.

_And I thought you liked to keep it simple!_

_Most of the _time, he joked, a faint smile twitching on his lips at her giddiness. He turned to the elf, "If I leave, I want you to swear that you won't escape; it will be a tiring situation to have to prevent the guards from killing you."

A strange emotion passed between her bright green orbs, but she nodded. Reassured, Gabranth left the room, making his way to the cells. "Where is the rider?" he asked a nearby guard. The man immediately led him to the first cell on the right, swinging it open. Sitting on his cot, with dark black hair and gray eyes, was none other than Murtagh. Seeing him made Gabranth's blood boil. He had been protected by their mother. She had left him to live peacefully in who knows where while he had to suffer Galbatorix's wrath. It was almost unfair.

"What do you want?" Murtagh asked harshly. He clenched his hand to keep from hitting something.

"For a prisoner, you are rather bold." He said coolly.

Murtagh snorted, unfazed. "I am not afraid of death."

"But if you were to die, then where would that leave your beloved dragon?" Gabranth asked, shocking his half-brother with something he had yet to think about. "So I suggest you hold your tongue while speaking. Durza may not be as forgiving as I am."

"Why are you here?"

Instead of answering him, Gabranth walked forward, leaning closely down to his ear. "If you want to escape, don't eat the food. Drugs." Straightening, he turned saying rather loudly in a harsh voice. "Do not think yourself superior, Murtagh. Your father may have been Morzan, but that won't save your life."

With that he left the cell, motioning for the guard to lock the door. He wasn't surprised to find Durza standing there, waiting for him with a smile. "That short of a visit?"

He scoffed. "I would rather not see his face. I might end up staining my blade with his blood. And who knows what else? Keep a good eye on him Durza; I wouldn't want this prisoner under my care."

Ascending the spiral stone staircase, he sighed. It just keeps on getting better and better. _You're letting him escape?_

_I may hate him, but I wouldn't want him to live like I do._

_Neither do you._

_Saphira…I'll think about it_, Eragon replied, trying to keep their argument at bay. Entering the room, he found the elf sitting on his bed reading. She glanced up as he entered but soon returned to what she was doing. Going over to her, he grabbed the book from her hands, tossing it to the side before gripping one of her wrists. "You need to escape with the rider."

Her eyebrows shot up in alarm. "Rider?"

"Yes, rider! Murtagh, I'm sure you've heard of him. You need to get out with him before Durza gets the chance to bring him to Urû'baen." He dragged her off the bed and out of the room towards the cells. Ignoring the looks of wonder on the guards' faces, he discreetly gestured to Murtagh's cell before roughly shoving her into her old one. "Sorry. Do it tomorrow, and leave as fast as you can!"

"What about you?" he stopped surprised, before bowing his head to her.

"I am grateful that you care, but I can handle myself." With that, he closed the door to her cell. Seeing Durza at the end of the hall, he snorted. "It seems that the elf was more troublesome than I had thought that she would be."

"Tired already?"

"I don't have a preference for torture, and talking to her kindly makes me tired," Gabranth replied as he left, leaving a laughing Durza in his wake. Lying was almost too easy. Now, to give the elf a little present.

When next morning came, he was prepared for what was going to happen that day. As night time fell, he wasn't surprised when he heard shouts come from the cell area. He stopped Durza who had just run past him. "Take care of this; if it's lost the king will have my head! I trust it to no other!" He ran past the shade who nodded and down into the hallways. Bodies littered the floor, blood painting the walls and cemented ground.

There was no sight of the Murtagh or the elf at their cells. "They're not here, Durza!" he yelled, using magic to raise his voice.

"I've found them!" came his dark reply. He hurriedly rushed up the steps towards the banquet room; a loud cry of agony filled his ears. They must have taken out Durza. Running into the room, he stopped at the sight of an old man sitting on a red dragon. As he slowly realized who it was, anger filled him beyond anything, despite the relief he felt as he saw that in the elf's hands was a green stone. Everything else was pushed towards the back of his mind as anger and hatred clouded his senses.

"Give me that!" he roared at a nearby soldier, grabbing his bow and his quiver of arrows. Stringing three arrows, he aimed it towards the old man. "Brisingr!" With a rush of air, the three arrows burst into flames. Losing them, he watched as they headed straight for the man until green magic thwarted their path. He glared at the elf. He could see confusion in her eyes at his abrupt anger but ignored it. At his frustration, a roar escaped his lips, surprising everyone in sight. No one had ever seen him lose his temper before. _Saphira!_

There was no response. Instantly, fear clouded him. "Saphira!" he yelled, running over to the broken wall as the red dragon took off. He glanced out to find her fast asleep. She couldn't just be sleeping though, she would normally still respond to him. Damn it! He must have used magic on her! Jumping from the top of the high wall, he landed on the ground, ignoring the soldiers' calls, and ran towards her. "Saphira," he called again, gently stroking her snout. The only response she gave was a puff of smoke.

The following day, a messenger arrived with a letter from his mother. There was only one sentence on it. _I've left for the Varden._

**UPDATE 08/07/2014: Since the story is coming to an end, another author has decided to Re-Beta this story to make it error free for you all. That in itself is a pretty amazing task seeing as this story is a hundred chapters long and the word length is no little number! So let's all thank **_Psycho the. psychotherapist _**for taking time to make this story spotless! Thanks you, new Beta!**


	3. Chapter 2

**This chapter isn't as long as my first but I'm going to try to keep my chapters in the 3,000-5,000 word range. I don't like writing short chapters. Also, there aren't going to be many chapters with Murtagh because I don't know him enough to write about him and stay true to his character. The next chapter will be about Eragon. But anyway, happy reading and I don't own Eragon but I wish I did. Read&Review!**

After some labored flying, Thorn was able to rest in a clearing a league away from Gil'ead. Picketed in the clearing were Snowfire and Cadoc, who snorted nervously at Thorn's seemingly abrupt appearance. Murtagh immediately slid to the ground, and attended to Thorn, looking for potential injuries while Brom readied the horses with the elf woman who had aided in their escape. For some reason, the elf in question had looked reluctant to leave Gil'ead. _It must have been the drugs_, Murtagh thought, shaking his head. Why would she want to stay in the Empire?

_I'm not hurt_, Thorn's deep voice rumbled in his mind. _I'm just tired._

_Thank the gods above, _saidMurtagh, breathing a sigh of relief before fiercely hugging his dragon around the neck. _Thank you, what you did was incredible, Thorn. I will never forget it._

_You can thank me by staying out of harm's way. If Brom hadn't been able to give that dragon such a large dose of his sleeping potion, I do not think I could have stood up to her; she was many times my size. I'm sure she would've chased us all the way to the Varden._

At that, Murtagh hesitated, remembering the words that the tall armored man had spoken to him when he was still locked in his cell. _I don't think so._ At this he shared the memory with Thorn, who seemed intrigued by the revelation.

"Murtagh!" He turned as Brom came up behind him.

"What?"

"What? What do you mean, what?" Brom asked incredulously. "After all I went through to get you out of that hole, that is the first thing you say to me?"

He immediately backtracked at the old man's anger. "Sorry! Sorry! I'm just a little jumpy right now."

"Aren't we all?" He glanced at Thorn. "How's he holding up?"

"He'll be fine, he's just tired." Murtagh said, running a hand over Thorn's ruby red scales. Brom gave him a sympathetic look.

"He'll have to carry you for a little longer. We have to get as far away from Gil'ead as possible. I'm not sure how long the sleeping potion I gave that dragon will last, not to mention that Durza might be on our trail," Brom explained. At this, Thorn got to his feet, crouching for Murtagh to climb up onto his makeshift saddle. "We'll follow you from below."

"If there's any trouble, tell me." Murtagh said as Thorn pushed off of the ground with his hind-legs. As they flew, he chanced a glance back in the direction they came from, half expecting a large blue dragon to be on their tail, a fearsome man riding atop of it.

_That dragon was much larger than me. I could not have beaten her._ He could hear the slight sense of shame in Thorn's thoughts, for if he and the blue dragon were to go up against each other, Thorn would certainly lose because of his size and lack of experience in battle.

_Remember that you will eventually grow as big, Thorn._

_Yes, but that dragon will also be growing as well. Unless we receive proper training, we cannot fight such opponents as those and expect to win._

Acknowledging Thorn's statement, Murtagh finally realized something that was bothering him. _How do you know the dragon was a female?_

Thorn grumbled, amused at his question. _I can tell the differences in genders of my own race._

Despite the fact that they were degrading their skills, Murtagh knew that Thorn was right. The blue dragon and her Rider must be very skilled, with Galbatorix himself as their master. They were no doubt much stronger and more experienced than both Murtagh and Thorn. At the thought of the Rider, he felt an odd curiosity swell inside him.

_He had wanted me to escape, had given me the vital information I needed to leave Gil'ead. So why did he erupt into such a fury when Thorn had arrived? We did poison his dragon with the sleeping potion…_

_Or it could be that the elf escaped with the egg_, Thorn chimed in, after a while of flying.

_I don't think it was, in that case he would have been aiming for her instead of Brom._ That was right, when the armored man caught sight of Brom; he had immediately sprung into action, grabbing a bow and quiver from a nearby soldier. He'd been so intent on killing Brom that, Murtagh thought with a jolt, if the elf hadn't been there, he would have surely died. There must be something between them for him to hate Brom that much.

_Perhaps…we'll have to ask Brom what he knows._

They traveled through the night, not stopping, even when their flagging strength began to slow them. They continued onward, despite burning eyes and clumsy movements. Below and behind them, lines of torch-bearing horsemen could be seen searching around Gil'ead for their trail. After many bleary hours, dawn finally began to lighten the sky. _Land, we have to make camp. I'm afraid that if we travel any further, it might drive the horses to death, _Brom's voice echoed in his mind.

He was so tired that he didn't have the energy to even try to block out Brom with his mind. _I'll have to be more alert next time_, thought Murtagh. They followed Brom's directions, and found the horses drinking from a stream at the base of a small cliff. Brom and the elf were sitting against the rock surface, seemingly discussing something in hushed voices. They immediately glanced up at Thorn and Murtagh's arrival. Brom stood while the elf did not move from her seat. "Glad to be out of that, aren't we?" Brom said with a grim smile, handing him a fresh apple. He didn't bother asking where the old man had gotten it but instead gratefully took it while Thorn went to drink from the stream, startling the horses. Luckily the horses had gotten somewhat used to the presence of the dragon, but evidently still not enough to stay calm when he approached.

"Immensely." He sat down on the ground, grateful to be on solid footing rather than in the air. He was afraid that if he had fallen asleep he would have fallen out of his saddle and to his death. Sensing his fear, Thorn expressed his disapproval. _I would have caught you._

_Just drink your water, Thorn. _Murtagh was not in the mood for this.

Brom looked to him. "We've traveled quite some distance, but it's not time to celebrate yet. Galbatorix isn't going to be happy when he hears that he lost his recently captured Rider, and that's neglecting his last egg disappearing. Speaking of which, I must say, I'm surprised that we were able to acquire it that easily."

Murtagh snorted. "Easy? I would say it was more due to luck." The thoughts that had been on his mind came back to him, and he turned to Brom with interest. "Since we're talking about Gil'ead, can you explain to me why that Rider was so intent on killing you?"

At this the elf glanced towards Brom. Apparently she had been thinking the same thing as well. He rubbed his beard with a thoughtful expression. "I don't understand it myself. I've never met that man in my entire life. I've only heard stories about him. He is the King's Rider, Gabranth."

_Gabranth_. Murtagh frowned. He had indeed heard that name, but from the stories it was associated with, he never would he have thought that it belonged to that man. "I've heard he answers to Galbatorix with such loyalty that it's remarkable they do not look alike." Murtagh fidgeted, and out of the corner of his eyes, the elf also moved uncomfortably where she sat. Something must have happened between Gabranth and her, Murtagh thought with interest.

"He seems to hate you a great deal. Of all the people he could have been trying to kill it was you," Murtagh said, as he bit into the apple. "He could have aimed for her," he pointed to the elf, "because she had the egg. Or me, because I'm a Dragon Rider." He glanced at Brom closely as if trying to solve a mysterious puzzle. "You must have done something to him."

"Impossible. Gabranth had only started showing up recently, around four years ago. And if staying in Gil'ead has addled your senses, I'll remind you that I have been living in Carvahall for the past fifteen years," Brom said stiffly. Murtagh shrugged.

"Still, he aimed three arrows at you, not to mention that he set them on fire with magic." Suddenly his eyes shot up. "You didn't bed his woman, did you?"

"What in the blazes are you talking about, boy?" Brom roared. Murtagh shrugged again. After a few minutes, Brom was calm enough to speak. "Enough about that." He gestured towards the elf. "I've neglected to introduce the two of you; this is Arya, the Elven ambassador to the Varden." Then he motioned towards Murtagh with a disgruntled expression. "And this is Murtagh, the Rider of the dragon whose egg you had been carrying."

"Thank you for rescuing me." Murtagh said, truly thankful for her help. If it hadn't been for her strength and speed, Brom would have been captured in his attempt to save him from Gil'ead, and if not he would certainly have been killed by those arrows. "But why were you in Gil'ead? Were you also captured by Durza?"

She nodded. "My companions and I were ambushed on our return to Farthen Dûr." He blinked at her rich but accented voice. "Durza and the Urgals are working for Galbatorix."

"This will mean war!" Murtagh cried, after a short stunned silence. "Once the people of the Empire learn of it, they are sure to rebel and support the Varden!"

"If they ever learn of it," Arya corrected. "I don't think Galbatorix is going to announce their allegiance with the Urgals just yet. But even so," she added, her catlike green eyes turned towards the sun rising in the sky, "as long as your people have a common enemy, they will be unlikely to protest this alliance."

"Common enemy?"

"Use your head, Murtagh!" Brom exclaimed. "The elves and the Varden. With the right rumors they can be easily portrayed as the most despicable monsters in Alagaësia; fiends who are waiting to seize your land and wealth. The Empire has had a century to convince people of this. They could even say that the Urgals have been misunderstood all this time, and that they are really friends and allies against such terrible enemies. I only wonder what the king promised them in return for their services, if anything."

"Where is he sending the Urgals then? They were heading southeast as if to brave the Hadarac Desert."

"The Varden." Arya answered in a quiet voice. He turned to her. She was very healthy, he thought. Not one scratch for all the time she'd been imprisoned. He found it hard to believe, but before he could ask, Brom had spoken.

"We should rest; we have a long and arduous travel ahead of us." Murtagh nodded before stretching out a blanket to lie down on. Arya said something to Brom and assumed her position against the rocky surface of the cliff, keeping guard.

Murtagh soon found himself unable to sleep, however, and after an hour of lying still on the ground; he sat up with a sigh. "What troubles you?" Arya's soft voice floated over to him, loud in the silence of the night.

He shrugged. "I keep on thinking about that Rider, Gabranth." Her posture stiffened. "He wanted me to escape." Her bright green eyes turned to him. "When he came to visit me, he told me not to eat the food because it was drugged." He hesitated as he glanced at Arya. "He helped you too, didn't he?"

"Yes." The way she said that one word showed her thoughts of Gabranth; she was as confused by his actions as Murtagh was. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she continued in a soft voice. "I didn't understand him, or his intentions. It was during one of Durza's tortures that I first met him." A breath escaped her lips as she turned her gaze to the stars above, intent on studying the constellations. "I thought that he was going to take Durza's place as my torturer. But that was not so. He helped me, and used magic to heal me to full health, intent on me escaping Gil'ead. For someone so loyal to Galbatorix, he let me escape with both you and the last dragon egg." Murtagh saw her hands grip a pouch in her lap.

He sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. No matter what way he looked at it, they were indebted towards Gabranth. "I fear of what Galbatorix may do to him when he learns of his betrayal." She nodded.

"You should rest; we will leave soon for the Varden." He nodded before resuming his position on the blanket below him, now more at ease at having been able to confide in someone, even if it had only been for a few minutes.

For the next two days, Brom had them travel hard and fast, intent on evading the Black King and his army. They traveled with Murtagh riding Thorn, Arya running, and Brom riding the horses. They would regularly rest at half an hour intervals, out of fear of driving the horses to death, until eventually, they reached the borders of the Hadarac Desert.

That night, Murtagh was abruptly roused from sleep. He listened carefully. All was quiet. Uneasily, he slid his hand towards the side of his blanket where Zar'roc lay. He waited for a few minutes, then slowly slid back to sleep. A squeak suddenly pierced the night, tearing him back to wakefulness. Rolling to his feet, he could hear rustling from where Brom lay; he must have heard it as well. "Stop!"

He immediately tensed as Arya's voice cut through the night. A small green glow from a werelight appeared, and much to his shock and amazement, he found himself staring at a green dragon hatchling that was no longer than his forearm. It stood in the center of the triangle that they formed, throwing the last piece of membrane that it had been encased in to the ground. Its scales were a deep, emerald green, like the lush leaves of an aging tree. Despite its audience, it had only eyes for Arya. He watched as it walked up to the elf on unsteady legs, sniffing her curiously before letting out a squeak of excitement.

She tentatively, with a nod of approval from Brom, reached out with her right hand to stroke its head. Instantly her form crumpled to the ground, a shocked gasp escaping her lips. They hurried to her side, laying her down on Brom's blanket, the dragon intently following as if refusing to let its Rider leave its sight even for a minute to recover. After a few moments, the shock of the green egg hatching and its consequences penetrated his mind, and he found himself smiling like a fool.

_Another Rider! Now, we are evenly matched against Galbatorix!_ He thought excitedly, almost shouting with joy. Thorn let out a deep rumble. The green dragon turned to see the large red dragon, noticing his presence for the first time. It let out another excited squeak before running over to greet him. Just watching them interact made Murtagh consider just how quickly Thorn had grown since he was the hatchling's size himself but a few months ago.

"By the gods, we've been blessed." Brom muttered gazing up at the stars. "Two dragons joining the Varden." He let out a bark of laughter. "Finally, we are on equal footing! And Arya as a Rider!"

"This will be quite a story to tell when I arrive home." A dry voice entered their conversation. Arya was just getting up from where she laid, glancing at her right hand. The green dragon turned its attention away from Thorn before walking over to her; it stopped next to her and rubbed a scaly leg against her side. He watched how as she rubbed its head, the dragon arched to her touch in response.

Remembering when Thorn first hatched, Murtagh ran to the horses to grab a few strips of meat before handing it to Arya, who, with her unnatural strength, tore it into small strips, feeding them one by one to her thoroughly overexcited dragon. "So... are you going to train Arya?" Murtagh asked, turning to Brom, who let out a booming laugh.

"Train Arya? She probably knows more about magic then I do, and she definitely has far more years of fighting experience. No, she'll have to train with her people, the elves." A thoughtful expression spread across his face. "I'm overjoyed about having another Rider, but I think if there is any more excitement than what has happened lately, an old man like me might get a heart attack."

Murtagh snorted_. I don't believe that. _He turned to Thorn_. At least you have another companion to talk to._

_That is, when he's able to talk_, Thorn replied.

_It's a he then? You should tell Arya so she can come up with some names for him to choose. I can remember when I had to think of a list for you, _Murtagh said, replaying the memory in his head. He watched Arya turn to Thorn before nodding.

"All right, go to sleep, everyone. Let's not let this excitement get to our heads. We still have a long way to go tomorrow, and we need rest," Brom ordered, lying down on his blanket. Murtagh nodded, though he didn't believe he would get much sleep. His heart felt as if it might explode from his chest. This was almost too good to be true. The last thing he saw before sleep took him was the green dragon ambling its way up into Arya's lap before curling up to sleep.

The next morning, despite their happiness, traveling was made much more difficult with a dragon hatchling to carry. Murtagh could not hold the hatchling while flying with Thorn, for the fear of dropping him, and he was too young to fly on his own. The only comfortable solution that they came up with was for the dragon to lie in a saddlebag on Snowfire. It was slightly disgruntled when Arya tried to make it understand with her mind, but did as she asked.

He felt a thrill of excitement overwhelm him as they readied themselves to enter the Hadarac Desert. They were finally leaving the Empire! He was finally going to see a world without Galbatorix's influence.

Vast expanses of dunes spread to the horizon like ripples on an ocean. Gusts of wind twirled the reddish gold sand into the air. Scraggy trees grew on scattered patches of solid ground. The imposing desolation was barren of any animals except for a single bird gliding on the zephyrs.

It was morning of the fourth day since leaving Gil'ead. They had already covered thirty-five leagues. Murtagh had to admit that the journey on dragonback was likely much more pleasant than of that on horseback. He felt guilty as he glanced down to find the horses running through clouds of sand that billowed into a storm as they traversed the Hadarac Desert. Brom and Arya, not to mention her dragon, must be having problems breathing through all of that. He glanced forward: they had a long way to travel if they hoped to make it to the Beor Mountains-and away from Galbatorix.

**So, what do you think? I know that having another Rider so soon isn't that true to the book but it's going to get more interesting when Eragon arrives at the Varden. And this is the only way I can have the Durza battle at Farthen Dûr work out. Please review!**


	4. Chapter 3

**Well, this is my third chapter. I'm happy to know that you guys enjoy this story so far. I'll try to keep it that way. And as for your suggestions, I'll keep them in mind. But this chapter is about Eragon and hopefully you'll get an insight of his life. Happy reading! I do not own Eragon but I will continue dreaming.**

The large castle doors flew open at his approach, slamming hard against the walls. If he had thrown them open any harder with magic, Gabranth was positive that they would have gone flying off their hinges. Practically stomping down the marble hallways, he took four sharp turns before arriving in front of the two beautifully carved black maple doors that preceded his mother's chamber. He threw them open, seeing how nicely kept the room was only adding to his frustration. Spinning on his heels, he made his way to his servants' quarters. Surely they wouldn't have let his mother waltz off with the intentions of going to the Varden by herself! She may have been Morzan's Black Hand, but that was well over sixteen years ago!

No matter what he told himself, everywhere he went, his castle was empty of any living presence despite him. Gabranth had known that it was futile to search from when he first set foot in his castle grounds; he had found his stable cleaned of his horses. It was only then that he found a letter addressed to him in the banquet room, lying on the long table. It was written in elegant script, meaning that Desdemona must have taken the liberty to explain to him why they weren't here.

_Lord Gabranth,_

_We are dearly sorry for leaving the castle uncared for and deeply regret leaving during your absence. However, we couldn't let Lady Selena embark on such a dangerous journey by herself. You said yourself when you hired us to serve you; we should protect her ladyship with our lives. After seeing how determined she was to leave, we decided that the best way to keep her from getting hurt was to accompany her ourselves. I give you my oath that nothing will befall her and that we shall arrive safely at our destination, the Varden. And we hope that you will not be long in following. If things work out, we shall see you at Farthen Dûr within a week's time._

_Your faithful servants,_

_Desdemona, Finny, Bard, and Rosalie._

Letting out a frustrated yell, he crumpled the letter, throwing it to the ground. Faithful servants? By the gods, they should have knocked her out or locked her inside her chambers. _You know they wouldn't do that, not to your mother._

_But the Varden!_ He protested, walking towards the exit. _It's almost like sending her to her death! What was she thinking, casting her fate with that lot?_

_Maybe she was sick of staying indoors so much. You know how much she longed to leave the Empire._

Before he could angrily retort, a soldier ran up to him, bowing as he stopped barely a foot in front of him. "What is it?" he asked, barely managing to contain his anger.

"His majesty w-would like to see you, lord Gabranth." He stammered, realizing the rider's fury. He hurriedly dismissed him. _Shall I accompany you?_

_No, stay and rest, we have a long journey ahead of us. _The castle that he had always lived in was given to his mother by Galbatorix. Apparently it was a gift to her when Morzan died to show how much Galbatorix appreciated the red rider's loyalty, giving it to the person closest to him, his Black Hand. However, it had also allowed the king to keep an eye on Gabranth ever since he was a child, for the castle was not far from the king's own majestic palace.

Entering the palace, he nodded to a group of passing soldiers who saluted to him. The guards were expecting him as he came upon them. They swung the doors open and bowed to him, before closing it shut after he entered. He wasn't surprised to find Durza already kneeling on the red carpet before a very displeased-looking Galbatorix. He stopped next to the shade's form, kneeling as well. "Your majesty."

"Ah, Gabranth," acknowledged Galbatorix, his black eyes turning to him. "I am very displeased," he said, stating the obvious.

"Is that so, your majesty?" he asked, knowing fully well the cause of his displeasure.

He sent him a mocking smile. "Why yes, it is. You see, I've received word from Durza that not only has the elf that I rewarded you with escaped, but you also let her take the _last egg — _along with the rider!" At the last statement, the room gave an unearthly shake, reflecting the king's obvious anger. Gabranth bowed his head.

"I did not let the elf take the last egg, and Brom was there to help the rider escape," he answered. In response, Galbatorix's eyes widened in surprise at being challenged while a cold smirk formed on Durza's lips. Gabranth felt himself smile. If only Durza knew how things weren't going to fall in his favor.

"Are you challenging me, Gabranth?" Galbatorix asked, a hint of menace underlining his tone. Gabranth shook his head and elaborated, but instead of using the common tongue, the words that left his lips were those of the ancient language.

"No, your majesty. When the elf escaped, I went after her. But before I did," he turned to glance at Durza from the slit in his helm, before continuing, "before I did, I entrusted Durza with the egg, for I knew that there was a chance that I might lose it in battle. But apparently for a shade so powerful, he was overwhelmed by a recovering elf, a young rider, and an old man."

"You—!" the Shade's angry outburst was silenced as Galbatorix turned to stare at him.

"You have yet to inform me of this, Durza," he whispered quietly.

"I thought that you wouldn't deem it important," he replied, his head bowed.

A harsh laugh echoed through the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Again, from the way they amplified the sound, it seemed as if the room were echoing the King's emotions. "Not important? For a moment, your lack of information almost had me punishing my most loyal subject! I am... most displeased with you, Durza," Galbatorix spoke, his aggravation at Durza's failures clearly heard throughout his words. "I shall deal with you later, now begone!"

He looked ready to protest but stood, and giving Gabranth a scorching look, left the throne room, muttering curses underneath his breath all the while. Galbatorix turned back to Gabranth. "I apologize for that undue anger, Gabranth."

"It is to be understood, your majesty. The loss of something so valuable would render anyone ill-tempered." The king nodded this. Gabranth continued. "Before I leave, your majesty, I wish to request your permission to journey to the Varden."

Shock overwhelmed the king's expression, soon replaced by suspicion. "And why is that, Gabranth?"

"My mother has taken it upon herself to journey to their hideout. And I will _not_ have her throw away her life with a petty resistance group." He answered, unable to keep the anger from his tone.

"And if she refuses?"

"If push comes to shove, I'll eventually have to use magic to show her how serious my intentions are, at having her side with the Varden. But hopefully, it will not come to that."

"Is it because she wants to be with Brom?" He stiffened and the smile on Galbatorix's lips widened. The King knew how to play with his emotions, Gabranth thought. No matter.

"I refuse to let that happen," Gabranth said, his voice filled with such venom that it shocked him. He had never been one to show anger. But Galbatorix seemed pleased. "If I have to, I'll dye my blade red and coat my armor in his blood if he gets in my way."

"Your own father?"

That did it. He lifted his head to glare at Galbatorix. "Never has he been my father. And he never shall claim that title." _Not after he abandoned me and my mother. _His heart clenched painfully at the thought. The king nodded, a pleased smile on his lips.

"Very well, you have my permission. And while you're there, please do get my precious egg back. I don't want their dirty hands touching something so valuable."

"You have my word."

"Do you need any reinforcements?" Galbatorix asked.

"Nay, if I do, I shall have to bend my pride a little and ask the Urgals for assistance." The king laughed at the displeasure in Gabranth's voice but nodded.

"I will send word for them to obey your commands, when you arrive in the Beor Mountains. The main force is stationed in the city of Ithro Zhada, though its real name as given by the dwarves is Orthiad. It is an old city that is connected to most if not all of the tunnels that run underneath the Beor Mountains. You should find that arriving at Farthen Dûr is but an easy task. However, be careful so as not to reveal any of our spies' identities," Galbatorix explained.

Gabranth nodded, thankful for the information. He stood and with one last bow, left the throne room. He wasn't surprised to find Durza waiting at the end of the hallway for him. As he approached the shade, he wasn't fazed in the slightest by the fire in his maroon eyes. "How dare you!" Durza exclaimed. "Insulting me in front of the King!"

"I would watch what comes out of your mouth from now on, Durza," Gabranth warned, his voice was so sharp it had momentarily surprised Durza. Momentarily.

"You have no right to insult a powerful shade such as myself! Not with your powers!"

"Powerful?" he laughed. "Do not insult me, Durza. I am not in the mood for such useless arguments. And if you don't want to see me irritated, I suggest you remember your place."

"Is that a threat?" Durza whispered quietly, his hand sliding to the hilt of his sword.

"No, merely advice. But since you seem to be lacking some today, I'll gladly offer you some words of wisdom. With the king being so displeased, in your position I would suggest you refrain from attacking me, or his majesty himself will be ripping your heart from your chest."

Durza glared at him before speaking his final statement. "I shall see that you regret those words had left your lips."

"I will wait for the day to come when you pose a challenge to me, Durza," Gabranth promised, turning to leave the hallway. As he walked, he called out for Saphira. _Fly to the armory, it's time to test out the dragon armor that was forged for you._

_You really want to fight them? Your brother? Your father?_

_Never call him my father! _He replied vehemently. _He doesn't have the right._

_Eragon…I will see you there,_ Saphira conceded. He sighed, thankful that she had let the argument drop. Entering a large room, he nodded towards the soldiers and workers that were scattered about the large chamber. Armor of every kind hung off the walls; silver mail, platinum chest plates, and iron wrought helms. But the type that differed greatly from most of the armor in the room was the large dragon armor in the center; silver, with the crest of the Empire painted in red upon the shiny surfaces. Gabranth ordered some of the men to carry it outside into the courtyard where Saphira stood waiting patiently, her tail swaying from side to side as she watched them with bright blue eyes. After a good deal of struggling, Gabranth and the workers stood back to admire their work. Saphira's entire neck, except for the spikes that ran along the top ridge, was covered with triangular scales of overlapping armor. Her belly and chest were protected by the heaviest plates, while the lightest ones were on her tail. Her legs and back were completely encased. Her wings were left bare. A single molded plate lay on top of her head, leaving her lower jaw free to bite and snap, and painted in red on it was the Empire's crest.

_This will slow me down while we travel, but it will certainly help if we were to fight the Varden upon our arrival. Thank the gods that it is enchanted, though. I wouldn't want to fly in this underneath the scorching sun. How do I look_? Saphira arched her neck and the armor flexed smoothly with her.

Everyone except for Gabranth took a step back unconsciously. _Do I have to answer that one?_

_No, but it's nice to drop a compliment here and there._

_Very intimidating_, replied Gabranth, truthfully. That pleased her. _I'll have to go gather some supplies from the castle, so meet me there in an hour or so. While I'm gone, why don't you try flying about in your armor? If it's too heavy, tell me and I'll enchant it to feel lighter._

_An hour it is. _Without another word, she pushed off from the ground, letting out a roar of delight as she ascended through the sky. A nearby soldier stopped to admire the sight of her, staring at her in awe. At that point, Saphira spun in a circle, letting the sun's ray dance off her armor. _Show off._

She ignored him. As he had said, Gabranth made his way back to his empty castle. Its emptiness making the halls seem even colder than usual. Seeing as there was no one around, Gabranth lifted his helm from his head and gently set it down on the banquet table. His reflection gazed back at him, a face he rarely showed. _It's because I've lost the right to show it_, he told himself as he did every time.

Four years ago when Saphira's egg had hatched for him, he had endured the harshest and most cruel torture that Galbatorix could devise. And it was four years ago when he had abandoned himself, and his identity. _Four years, s_ince he had taken up the title of being the King's rider willingly, since he had abandoned the name Eragon. He had become unfit for such a name. _Eragon, _the name of the first rider. If he had carried that name, he would only have tarnished it. _But there was another reason_, he thought. Gabranth shook his head.

And so, Gabranth was born four years ago. The cold hearted person who never revealed his face in public, serving the king with unswerving and cold-hearted loyalty. He sighed, rubbing his temple. Maybe that was why his mother left — she was sick of his emotionlessness, his willingness to serve such a tyrant. Maybe it was his fault that she was condemned to such a life of loneliness without the love of a husband or a proper son.

That was right, Gabranth thought as he tied the bag of supplies on the table. Who would want a cold-hearted son? A son who took his first life at the age of thirteen and continued to kill. A son who only brought pain to her whenever she set eyes upon him, or called his name. He could scarcely remember the last time that his mother had properly smiled without weariness that belay her age, or laughed without the weight of a saddened woman.

Would her life be any different if she had been living with Murtagh in the town in which she hid him? With his fath—Brom. _Aye, she would have been happier._ Gabranth thought, glancing back at his reflection. Maybe that was why she ran off for the Varden. News of her other son being a rider and of her lover who had disappeared sixteen years ago must have reached her. And she must have longed to be with them. In that case, what was he doing? Chasing after a mother who chose to abandon him? Was this even right?

_Do what you believe is right. In your heart. Don't let your mind twist what you want._

_But what do I want? _He replied, confused at his own feelings.

_Look within yourself, Eragon. You've answered the wishes of Galbatorix, of the people, of your mother. But what is it that you wish? _Saphira gently asked.

_Wishing is childish._

_It's not so. Everyone wishes for something in their hearts. The desire for change; for something that causes their longing to appear, takes root — and eventually, you find yourself wishing for it beyond anything._

_Maybe._

_Do you wish to see your mother again?_

He stopped and glanced at his reflection again. What she had suggested was the truth. There was no way around that revelation. He wished to see his mother. To see the person she was before he had become distant and cold. To see her laugh and smile with joy. _Let's go, Saphira. The day is getting late._

_My, my, why the sudden haste? _She teased. A small smile curved his lips upwards.

_I thought you knew what my wish was._

_Wish granted. _He grinned, and with another glance at himself, placed his helm back upon his head. Hoisting the pack over his shoulder, Gabranth left his castle to find Saphira ready and waiting for him. Her blue eyes sparkled with joy. _Finally, the adventure that I've been waiting for!_

_Excited to leave the Empire, are we? _Gabranth slid into the saddle that was tied over her armor, slipping the bag into one of the pouches. With deft fingers, he tightened the straps on the saddle over his legs.

_It's been a boring four years. To see new sights... It will be wonderful. _He smiled, feeling her anticipation and joy through their mental connection.

_Then let us fly. You wish to see the Beor Mountains soon, do you not? _The dragon let out a roar, and he pulled back slightly as a jet of fire crackled through the air. With a stroke of her wings and the push of her hind legs, she brought them easily off the ground, arching southeast towards the Beor Mountains.

For the first time in his life, he was going to leave the Empire, the place in which he was born, and head for foreign land. The home of the dwarves and the Varden. Like Saphira, he couldn't help but feel the excitement that sprung to life in his chest. Maybe, he hoped, he would see that elf again and his half-brother along with his dragon. And if he did meet Brom face to face, he was prepared for the fight that might ensue. The anger and resentment he had felt for the man that was his father had always been harbored in his heart, waiting to be released — _and maybe soon it will b_e. At the horizon horizon, outlined by the setting sun, he could see small specks rising from the ground. One would take them as trees, but he knew that they were something entirely different. _The Beor Mountains._

The smile on his lips widened at the thought of what might happen at his arrival in the Varden. If he entered, they wouldn't let him leave as easily, he knew…but no matter. He was ready for it and so was Saphira. Ready for their journey together outside of the Empire.

**Well, how did you think this chapter was? Good? Please give some suggestions. And review, I'll like to see what you think of the story so far. It makes me happy to see what other peoples' opinions are of it. Well, I'll try to post the next chapter soon enough! Don't forget to review!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Another chapter everyone! I'm grateful that you've all loved the story so far! I'll try to keep it that way. Happy reading to everyone and don't forget to review. Eragon = CP.**

After two days of traveling, the two of them eventually reached the Beor Mountains. Gabranth had to admit that, when he caught sight of the mountains against the setting sun of their second day of travel, the sight had been breathtaking. It was much different from the plain brick cities he was accustomed to visiting. That night as they were camping, he found himself staring up at the star filled night. _I never knew how beautiful the night sky could be._

_Come to think of it, this is the longest that we've ever been out of civilization. It makes you take in the sights around you with a different view, doesn't it?_

_It does. _He sighed. They were close to Orthiad, he knew. And once they overcame that, they would be heading straight for Farthen Dûr. Had his mother already made it there, he wondered? Had she met Brom or Murtagh yet? There was a reason why Gabranth had always hated being alone. When he was alone, he liked to think, and thinking always brought realization — which in turn brought pain.

He ran a hand through his messy, light brown hair. He didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid of meeting his mother again, at least with the possibility of meeting his father and Murtagh. Would she refuse to return with him to the Empire? He shook his head; that was a stupid question. Of course she would. Why would she abandon happiness? He knew her. His mother would rather die instead of abandoning a chance at being happy. She didn't care for jewels, power, or recognition. She had only a desire to be happy.

And he understood that desire. He wanted to laugh like he used to as a child without the burden of being a rider; without Galbatorix hanging over him. To smile freely. Maybe if he were stronger, he wouldn't have ended up as aloof as he was now. His thoughts soon wandered to Brom. He snorted. No matter how many times he tried to avoid such a topic, his mind would always bring it up. Why did he abandon him? It was a question that as a child, he had always wanted answered. But who else could have answered it besides Brom? Was it because he didn't want a child? Seeing him with Murtagh made the hurt in Gabranth's heart grow even larger and the hole even deeper.

Why would he care for the son of his enemy? The person who had used him from the very beginning when they were training as riders? He had killed Morzan and yet, he cared for the Forsworn's son and not his own? Gabranth simply didn't understand. Why would he help Murtagh and yet abandon him? His own son? Then, before he could stop them, his thoughts soon ended up wandering over to his half-brother. What was Murtagh like?

There was no doubt that he was much kinder than Gabranth. He had probably not even taken a life by his own hands yet. But he also had a father that he hated, he was sure of that. At least they had something in common besides blood. But everything else made them complete opposites. Did he have a happy childhood? Was he surrounded by family and friends, while Gabranth was surrounded by generals and soldiers? Just thinking of it made him begin to get angry. His mother went out of her way to get Murtagh out of the King's clutches, and yet she let her youngest son suffer a fate so horrible. He was being stupid. Now he was blaming his mother.

Deep down in his heart, he could never be angry at her, even if she did let him live such a life. She was one of the select few people besides Saphira that he cared for greatly. If anything it was his fault. For by giving in to Galbatorix, he might even have brought her more pain that happiness. _My existence was a mistake._

_Now you're being an imbecile. _Saphira, who had been quiet throughout his entire thought process, suddenly spoke up fiercely. _You've tried your best to live the right way. Stop blaming yourself, Eragon. You were young and defenseless. If the great rider Vrael fell to Galbatorix, then what are the chances of a twelve year old against him?_

_But that doesn't explain why Brom abandoned me. Why my mother only saved Murtagh and yet let me live like this._

_Then ask them once we arrive in Farthen Dûr. Don't let this dictate your life._

He smiled, if somewhat sadly, bringing a hand up to gently stroke Saphira's snout. _I will_. He sighed._ Saphira... I'm grateful that despite the troubles of being a rider that I'll never lose you as a friend._

_Oh, little one. _He could feel in her thoughts that she was overjoyed at his statement. He rarely ever told her how much she meant to him because she could feel it through their mental connection but when he did, it made her overwhelming happy. She nudged him gently. _Get some sleep, Eragon. Tomorrow, if we make good time, we shall be sitting in the presence of Urgals._

He nodded and rather comfortable in his armor, leaned against her side, allowing her wing to fold over him as he slept. The next day as they traveled, Saphira flew over a threshold and directly into a tunnel under the Beor Mountains. Finding the entrance to the mountain was a simple task for a dragon as large as Saphira, but the next part was the tricky step. If one wasn't careful, they could end up getting lost in the darkness that encased the tunnels. And if fortune didn't smile upon them to make it out, then they would spend the rest of their lives wandering the tunnels until they died of starvation or went crazed at being in the dark for so long.

Still, though, this threat again meant nothing to Saphira. Her unfailing sense of direction as a dragon pointed her the right way and she could hear much farther than his sensitive ears could. This helped her fly towards Orthiad as she knew that, being full of Urgals, it would be a very noisy city. They weren't the most graceful race in existence. The thought of being so close to Urgals filled Gabranth with displeasure. Their race was a most barbaric one; fighting to become chief of their clan, and fighting to be eligible to mate. When he first heard of their alliance with the Urgals he felt sickened. However, this was nothing compared to what he had seen at Yazuac. The piles of bodies haunted his thoughts. From then on, he had made sure that not one more Urgal stepped within the boundaries of their cities.

Unaware of the time, he could see a distinct light at the end of the tunnel. They had made it. When they emerged from the tunnel, he found himself staring down at an ancient city, long deserted by the dwarves, as Galbatorix had told him. Below were masses of Urgals staring up at Saphira, but none raised their weapons, knowing full well who Gabranth and Saphira were. Saphira landed in a courtyard, folding her wings in on herself to avoid hitting nearby Urgals and Kull. It was a large force, Gabranth noted. The Varden would be unlikely to survive such an army.

A larger-than-average Kull approached him, his head raised high in a sign of respect. The horns curling from his temples were nicely polished, to his amusement. _If you were born a Kull I'm sure you'd like to polish your horns every once in a while to attract the ladies._

He snorted quietly as the tall, proud Kull approached, unfazed by the large muscles bulging all across his body. "Lord Gabranth." He spoke in a thick, guttural accent. "I am Tarok." He remembered that name. It was that of one of the few Kull chosen to guide the many clans of Urgals underneath Durza's command. Gabranth nodded, acknowledging him. "An honor it is to meet you."

He frowned, grateful for the helm covering his face; and through that, his distaste for the Urgals. "Likewise."

Tarok beckoned for an Urgal to step forward. "He will show you to your resting place. And if possible we would like to speak to you about our next course of action." That surprised him. Had the King order them to Orthiad without any other plans? He nodded.

Letting the Urgal guide him, he took in the ancient city that showed many signs of its long abandonment by the dwarves. He had read in many books that Orthiad was one of the grandest cities the dwarves had built, in its prime. He was soon grateful that when it was built, the dwarves seemed to have taken into consideration the height of other races, even if the doorways still seemed a little too small for the Kull. It seemed fair that they had never expected clans of Urgals to rest in their city.

Safely tucked away in his room, he left Saphira to eat the deer that the Urgals had offered to her. He removed his armor, leaving only a pair of breeches remaining on his body. Bathing himself, he let his mind wander off as he sat in the hot bath, grateful for a chance to rid his body of all the dirt and filth that had accumulated during their journey. As he had always found it, it was strange to see so many different Urgal clans together. Being the barbaric race that they were, he was sure that fights should have ensued, but as he met them, they seemed peaceful. _Dark magic_. The King or Durza must have done something to ensure that they remained loyal.

The following day, he let an Urgal lead him to what seemed like a practice field. Gathered to watch were a crowd of Urgals, with Saphira among their masses. From the feelings he was getting from her she was greatly amused at what was about to happen. He felt slightly annoyed at being uninformed. When Tarok approached him, he couldn't keep the annoyance from his voice. "What is the meaning of this? Don't tell me that we are having a strategy session on a practice field."

Tarok shook his head and raised his chin. "We were asked by Durza to treat you with our customs. And for you to be accepted by my people, you must defeat me in a challenge of strength."

_Durza. _He was getting closer and closer to aggravating Gabranth to the point in which he might kill the shade. When they came face to face again, he would make sure that an arrow would be sticking out of Durza's head... or maybe his heart. "A challenge of strength? Very well, I accept your challenge, Tarok. Will there be a need for weapons?"

The Kull shook his head. "No, we are not aiming to kill. If you become victorious, we will gladly accept you as a formidable leader."

Gabranth nodded and removed both of his blades from his side handing them to one of the nearby Urgals who took it in hand. He was accustomed to fighting with both hands because, in his opinion, only weak people needed to fight with shields. "Very well, let us get on with this challenge. I will show you as I've shown Durza my strength."

Immediately the field was cleared except for Gabranth and Tarok who stood facing each other. The Urgals that had crowded around them stood silently watching. Saphira bared her teeth in what seemed to be a smile. She was enjoying this far too much, thought Gabranth. One Urgal let out a roar which must have been the sound to begin fighting, for Tarok immediately charged at him. With a smile, he spread his feet apart, bending his knees as the Kull bent his head, his horns shining brightly. Unfazed, Gabranth curled his hands around each horn, stopping him in his intentions to ram him to the ground.

With unnatural strength, he brought his leg back and kicked Tarok in the gut, sending him flying thirty feet or more. It was enough strength to break a rib or two, but the Kull seemed to refuse to lose that easily. It was quite sweet really, though Gabranth, as the Kull stood and charged once more. The pattern was repeated over and over, with Gabranth throwing him off with ease, kicking, kneeing and punching Tarok until he had the Kull kneeling on the ground before him, bruised and tired. _He's not too smart now is he? _Gabranth sent to Saphira, causing her to come close to erupting into dragon-like giggles.

"We should call that an end to this challenge Tarok," said Gabranth. "Any more and you might end up killing yourself."

The Kull nodded and with what seem like an effort, brought himself back up to his feet. "You've bested me, Lord Gabranth. The right to join our councils is now yours. We shall respect you and obey your commands as one of our formidable leaders."

"I thank you." Feeling somewhat sorry for the Kull, he held out his right hand, on which his gedwëy ignasia was burned, covered by the armor. "May I take the liberty of healing your wounds? If you are injured, it may be difficult to lead your people in a battle."

"You may." With that, he began healing the Kull's wounds, but it seemed as if he had damaged Tarok's pride more than his body, upon inspection. Kull were clearly quite resilient. Afterwards, they were led into a large chamber, in which stood a lone table with a map lying on it. Saphira, who was waiting outside, gently touched his mind with hers. _That was a mighty show of power you put on out there._

_I like to show off every once and a while, unlike a certain dragon I know, who grasps the chance at every passing moment, h_e replied.

_Perhaps. It's just too bad you don't take well to Urgals. It seems as if any of the females would all be happy to marry you if you were of their kind. _He made a disgusted face at this, tuning out her laughter as he returned his attention to the table. He glanced at the map laid out on the table. "So you plan to attack Farthen Dûr?"

"Yes," one of the Kull commanders, Gashz, answered. "Our forces will be divided and we will attack the Varden from three different entry points." He pointed to three places on the map.

"A smart idea indeed," Gabranth murmured. "If you can corner them in, eventually you'll have them encaged within your army." Then an idea struck him. "And if they collapse the tunnels?"

"We will have to find a separate route. As long as it leads to the same place, it is fine."

He nodded. "When do you plan to take this course of action?"

"As soon as Durza arrives in Orthiad." Tarok answered. Gabranth nodded. So he must leave immediately for Farthen Dûr for any hope of getting his mother and servants out of the battlefield quickly. Durza would almost certainly want to have them caught in the crossfire.

They spent the next hour devising strategic battle plans, but in Gabranth's opinion, they could not get any better. Attacking from underneath limited their abilities and the element of surprise was their only upper hand. But even without that, he was sure that the Urgals could easily crush the Varden. _You think they could be defeated that easily? _Saphira asked, as they flew from Orthiad towards Farthen Dûr. They had left as soon as the meeting was over, exchanging brief goodbyes.

_If you base it off of numbers._

_If you have them cornered to a wall, I'm sure they won't give up very easily._

He nodded. Suddenly a sound of running footsteps reached his ears. An Urgal? No, the footsteps were too light. Raising his hand, he watched as a bright blue orb appeared, lighting the tunnel up to fifty feet. A grin appeared as the image of a dwarf running below him reached his eyes. _Saphira, land._

She did as he asked, landing directly in front of the dwarf. He watched in amusement as the dwarf fell, swearing all the while. Gabranth slid from the saddle with ease, making his way over to the fallen dwarf. "It seems that you've seen us. I wonder, were you going to run and tell the Varden of our arrival?"

The dwarf spat angrily at him. Gripping him by the front of his shirt, he lifted the small creature from his feet with ease. "Go tell your king, tell the Varden. I could not care less. But tell them that if the person I want isn't there, I will burn your precious cities to the ground and collapse every tunnel in this mountain so you will live in rubble."

With that he threw the dwarf towards the end of the tunnel watching as he scrambled to his legs and immediately set off, not glancing back. _Was that wise?_

_It'll make searching much easier. I'd rather have them come to me. _He replied climbing back up Saphira's saddle. Putting out the light, he couldn't stop the anxious feeling rising in his chest. It wasn't going to be easy getting in and out of the Varden without harming anyone, especially with Brom, and trying to convince his mother to leave with him would be nigh on impossible. Still, he was going to try nonetheless. _I can see the end to the tunnel._

She was right. A light shone ahead of them, and within a few minutes, they emerged from the tunnel to fly into an open space. Guards below them let out alarmed shouts, drawing their arrows which promptly bounced off the wards he had placed around Saphira when they took flight, as Gabranth was able to take in the sight of Farthen Dûr.

As they flew, he ignored the guards below them; they all seemed to be in quite a panic at their appearance. Honestly, it would be best to approach such a situation with a calm mind. But yet again, how could one be calm when such a large and intimidating dragon entered one's home?

That was when he saw the crowd waiting for them, standing in a large central chamber of what seemed to be the great dwarf city Tronjheim. Directly above them was the great star sapphire, the beautiful work of the dwarves that he had read of in many ancient texts. He wasn't surprised to find a red dragon waiting for them. Murtagh.

_Are you ready, Eragon?_

_We're here, aren't we? Land, Saphira, it's time to face them. S_he did as he asked, gliding to the ground. Gabranth steeled himself as her feet touched the ground, jostling him in the saddle. As he undid the straps around his legs, he felt determination well up within him. It was time to face his past — and in doing so, decide his future.

**So what did you guys think? There wasn't that much action but I wanted you to get a better feel of Eragon's past and his emotions. The next chapter will be up very soon hopefully, I'm beyond busy. But please review, I'll like to know what you think. As for suggestions, just throw them at me! See you at the next chapter!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was only when his feet hit the ground that Gabranth finally took in the sight of the people awaiting him. He saw a tall, powerfully built man, his skin the color of ebony. The dome of his head was shaved bare, but a closely trimmed black beard covered his chin and upper lip. Strong features shadowed his face, and grave, intelligent eyes lurked under his brows. He bore himself with great dignity, exuding an intense, commanding air. He must be the leader of the Varden, Ajihad, and the man who had come close to killing Durza. It was a pity he hadn't succeeded in doing so. For that feat alone, Gabranth harbored small feelings of respect for the man. At his shoulder were two tall men, both bald and beardless, dressed in purple and gold robes. _The Twins._

His gaze swept past them, setting eyes on a dwarf. Upon his head was a gold helm lined with rubies and diamonds. His visage was grim, weathered, and hewn, showing many years' experience. Beneath a craggy brow glinted deep-set eyes, flinty and piercing. Over his powerful chest rippled a shirt of mail. His white beard was tucked under his belt, and in his hands he held a mighty war hammer. He was the King of the dwarves, Hrothgar, no doubt. And by his furious expression, he must have gotten that message from the dwarf that Gabranth had assaulted.

Standing beside him was a younger dwarf, who wore chain mail with an axe hanging from his waist. His appearance was similar to that of his king, if not as grand and majestic. He continued looking down the line, stopping on the elf. Again, that strange feeling bloomed in his heart as he stared at her. Her brows were slanted, but unlike the others, her expression wasn't alarmed, seeming to be merely alerted. He forced his eyes onward past Murtagh who stood next to her, to Brom, and to the woman standing next to him. Instead of a dress, his mother wore clothes of padded leather, with black bracers upon her forearms and greaves upon her shins, a sword and dagger hanging from her waist. Her expression was one of pain as she stared at him. Standing behind her were his servants, anxiety marring their expressions.

Finally, he saw that not far off was a battalion of soldiers, humans and dwarves alike. Stepping forward again, he turned his helmed head in Ajihad's direction. "A warm welcome indeed."

Ajihad frowned, his alert expression never faltering as he spoke. "Why is it that you invade our halls, Gabranth? Is it for the dragon egg?"

He shook his head, surprising most of his audience. "No, I've come for another reason. If you would cooperate willingly with me, than I shall soon be gone from your presence."

The dwarf that stood beside Hrothgar angrily spat on the ground. _Disgusting, _Gabranth thought, _why is it that all of the dwarves that I've met only know how to spit? _"Do not insult us. You think you can threaten our race and burst into Farthen Dûr, and we'll just let you leave?"

Hrothgar raised his hand to silence the angry dwarf; he spoke in a guttural tone. "What is it that you seek within the Varden? We have nothing valuable to you besides our Riders." _Riders?_

Saphira's surprise flooded through him. _The egg must have hatched! _Pushing that thought aside, he focused himself. "I'm here for a person." He turned so that his body faced his mother, holding out his right hand. "Come back with me, mother. To Urû'baen."

Her expression seemed to become even more pained as she glanced between his outstretched hand and Brom and Murtagh. His half-brother, Gabranth noticed from the corners of his eyes, slid his hand to the hilt of Zar'roc. So he wasn't going to let go of their mother easily, thought Eragon. It wasn't his intention to hurt Murtagh but if he had to, then he would. "Don't do this," she whispered.

"I don't want to force you, mother," he said, a little more forcefully, as hurt spread through his veins like wildfire. She had refused him, just as he had hoped she wouldn't.

"Era—" Brom began, his face tormented.

"I don't want to hear it!" He yelled at the old man, his head snapping to face him, shocking everyone at his sudden outburst of anger. "I may have lost the rights to bear that name, but you aren't entitled to call me by it either!"

Quelling his anger, he turned his attentions back to his mother. "Please." He whispered quietly. His mother shook her head. Gabranth lowered his outstretched hand, balling his hands into fists. She was abandoning him. Like Brom did. Her own son. For her lover and for her other child. Steeling himself, he sighed. There was no point dragging her back to Urû'baen if she refused it as much as was currently doing. It would only serve to hurt her further. He turned to leave.

"Wait!" She cried, desperation coloring her voice. She stepped towards him. "Your helm. Please take off your helm so we can talk without these barriers."

They stood there, facing one another, before at long last; he removed the helm from his head in one swift motion, tucking it under his arm. He ignored everyone's shocked expressions at his young and elfish appearance, concentrating only on his mother. Those who heard him speak without his helm for the first time were even further surprised at his deep and slightly musical voice. "What is there to speak of? When you refuse to return with me to Urû'baen? When you ally yourself with the Varden?" asked Gabranth. "I can't protect you here, not when I'm fighting for the king."

"Then don't fight the Varden. Eragon, you can choose, you don't have to fight for Galbatorix. You can join the Varden." His mother whispered. He didn't stop her as she spoke his real name. Only she and Saphira had that right.

"I cannot."

"Why not?"

He refused to answer, turning his gaze to Ajihad and to Hrothgar instead. "I do not think your leader or the dwarves' King would approve of the likes of me, wandering these halls."

"That is not so." Ajihad replied, albeit stiffly and reluctantly, but still shocking him. Hrothgar nodded. "If you give your oath not to turn against us, if you allow yourself to be examined by the Twins or our elven ambassador, then perhaps we can trust you."

"See?" Selena said with a smile and a glimmer of hope in her brown eyes. "You can, you just have to decide for yourself."

"Eragon." He felt his anger flare as Brom spoke. The old man ignored his furious eyes and stepped towards them. In a flash, Gabranth had one of his swords in hand, pointed directly at Brom's chest. That was when Murtagh had decided to break his silence. He ran forward, Zar'roc flashing, and raised the crimson red blade, pointing it directly at Gabranth.

"Lower your sword!" He hissed, his gray eyes a raging fire.

Gabranth pointedly ignored him. "Don't you dare call me by that name." he warned. "Not after you abandoned me. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have suffered as much as I did."

Brom motioned to Murtagh. "Lower your sword." When he refused he repeated the order more forcefully. "Lower your sword, boy!"

"If he lowers his!" He angrily retorted. His mother, who stood off to side, seemed to be in a panic as she saw her family face off at each other, both of her sons bearing blades.

"Stop it, everyone!" she cried. She ran up tugging at his arm. "Please, Eragon. Let him explain, let me explain. You've always asked why your father abandoned you as a child. And now you have the chance to listen to his answer! Please, lower your sword."

Murtagh glanced wildly between the two of them, his eyes moving from Gabranth and back to Brom. "HE'S HAD SIXTEEN YEARS!" Gabranth roared, ripping his arm free from his mother. "Sixteen years," he whispered. "But he hadn't once thought of the young child that suffered in the dungeons of Urû'baen. No, he could run around risking his life for the Varden and train their new Dragon Rider, but couldn't muster up the courage to come for his _own son_."

"I do not blame you for hating me, Eragon," Brom whispered, his face pained. "But before you leave, just let me tell you why I never came to see you or your mother. Just a moment of your time, that is all I ask."

Saphira, who had remained quiet until now, nudged his mind gently. _Isn't this what you've wanted? Lower your sword, Eragon, listen to his explanation._

_What is there to explain?_

_Your anger and hurt is clouding your judgment; lower your sword, and hear him out. Or you'll regret this for the rest of your life. _Hesitating, he reluctantly lowered his sword, leaving his arm lax by his side. Eventually Murtagh lowered his. Brom stared at him for a long while before he opened his mouth to speak. Instead of the normal tongue, the ancient language flowed from between his lips.

"Sixteen years ago," began Brom, "when the red egg was stolen from Galbatorix's citadel, our agent who was assigned to the task unexpectedly took the egg and left with it. I spent nearly a year trying to track him down. And at that time, your mother was pregnant with you. However, she didn't know it was so. When Morzan ordered her on a mission, she thought it the opportune time to hide Murtagh from his father's clutches. She went to Carvahall and there she hid him there, but… on her journey back, she realized that she was pregnant with you. And in order to avoid Morzan's fury when he realized that the child wasn't his, she decided to keep far away from his castle."

His face scrunched up in pain as he continued and Gabranth felt his heart racing wildly in his chest. "I heard during my battle with Morzan that your mother had gone missing, and as soon as I had killed him and retrieved the egg from his body, I made my way to the castle in which she had lived. There, all the servants had told me that she had disappeared months ago, escaping with Murtagh. I had thought that she had finally found freedom but when I found Murtagh in Carvahall without your mother, it was not so. I'd asked her brother what had become of her and he said that she left once he took in Murtagh. For months I traveled between Carvahall and the castle in hopes of finding your mother but to no avail did I achieve that goal. I had thought that she had died. I attempted to scry her, but she had wards placed to block any attempts. You see, Eragon, I never learned of your existence."

His breathing was harsh as he took in Brom's explanation. All of these years, all of his hatred at being abandoned, his hurt at being unwanted, was from a misunderstanding. He didn't want to accept it as the truth. No, he had suffered so much and to know that the father he had always blamed for all of his misfortunes didn't mean to cause them made his heart hurt. His mother nodded as she too spoke in the ancient language.

"When I gave birth to you, I thought that maybe I could take you to Carvahall as I had done for Murtagh. It was not so. On the road to the small village, a group of soldiers found me and I was soon brought to Galbatorix. I was weak, I was no match for him and I couldn't find any way to save you except for agreeing to live under him as his subject. I thought that maybe when you were old enough you could find the strength to leave Urû'baen. But that hope was dashed when Saphira had hatched for you." He wished it was all lies; it would be easier then. _But how could it be?_ A small part of his mind asked. _They spoke in the ancient language, and your mother would never lie to you._ What about all the years he had lived in such hatred and anger? Should he simply throw it away? His grip on his sword tightened.

Speaking in the common tongue in order to keep from revealing his true feelings, Gabranth breathed in deeply. "I don't care what your reason was. I was still left to suffer under Galbatorix," he said, trying to control his voice. "To simply forget and to forgive all that has happened to me? The extent of the tortures I've experienced, you cannot imagine. It would be far too difficult. It is not so simple that I can just let go of such hatred, pain and resentment, that I've held on to for so long. Nor do I wish to do so."

_Eragon._ Saphira said, gently. He shook his head. _What do you want to do now?_

_I don't know anymore_, he replied truthfully, turning away from the congregation. Suddenly, he felt like the twelve year old child, locked in a dark, cold dungeon and wanting to be free. A feeling of loneliness and fear washed over him like ice-cold water. _I don't want to be alone_, theyoung boy cried in his mind. Grappling with his emotions, he felt himself shy away as his father moved towards him. When Brom spoke, it was back in the normal tongue. "Eragon, I know you hate me. I know you feel disgusted at the thought of having someone like me as your father. I understand that you don't want to throw away your hatred for me, but don't let that affect your judgment. You said you suffered beneath Galbatorix, so why do you not leave his service?"

"And join the Varden?" he laughed, feeling half-crazed, knowing he could not reveal the true reason. "Why should I? Wouldn't I suffer just as much? After serving Galbatorix for so long, I accepted my fate long ago. And to now find myself open to such choices?"

"That is only if you make it so," Ajihad spoke finally. He stepped forward and suddenly, Gabranth felt crowded. "Actions you perform here will overshadow your other deeds while serving Galbatorix. The brighter you shine, the less people will think of what you've done in the past."

His mother spoke up. "Eragon, it's up to you to make the choice but think, you'll be free. _"Free._ The single word tumbled endlessly through his mind. He would be free. And so would Saphira. But what was freedom when you were being chased? He didn't want to enslave Saphira to such a life, for if Galbatorix were to find out . . . he went cold just at the thought. _And there was the other reason._

_I will be fine._

_Will you?_ He asked.

_To be free, how I've longed for it. And so have you. Remember, I'll follow you to the ends of Alagaësia, Eragon. It's up to you to make the decision for yourself._

Trust and love, the warmth of her feelings, washed over him like a blanket. Straightening, he stared at them with determination. His eyes traveling from one person to the next person, lingering the longest on the elf. Her green eyes were bright and her expression was unreadable but he found some comfort in it and that strange feeling welled up in him again as he came to a decision. He turned back to Ajihad. "I will join the Varden, if you will accept me."

Suddenly his servants let out a shout of joy as all the fear and anxiety disappeared. His mother began to sob uncontrollably into Brom's chest, who was smiling with a tearful expression. Saphira let out a deafening roar, a jet of blue fire, crackling in the air. Hrothgar had an expression of approval on his face with the young dwarf next to him smiling. Even the elf had a smile on her face. But the Twins looked beyond shocked at his betrayal. A smile suddenly found his way onto his face.

"Let me make amends, starting with this." He turned to Ajihad. "You wonder why your agents disappear, do you not? Why Durza knew where to ambush your elven ambassador? There are spies amongst you."

"And you know who they are?" Ajihad asked, a grim expression returning to his face. Gabranth nodded, he had always disliked the Twins. Always. They took great pleasure in the fact that Galbatorix treasured them as his eyes and ears of the Varden.

"They are standing among us." He pointed towards the twins who were paling with a sheen of sweat on their faces. Hrothgar let out a yell while Ajihad's eyes widened in surprise. Without warning, they turned on their heels and fled, but before they could even move a few yards away, a ball of emerald light hit both of them square in the backs. The two of them fell to the ground.

The elf had her hand raised, a dangerous expression showing on her beautiful face. "I knew they were... unpleasant... but not to such an extent."

Ajihad was still in shock, however, as he gazed at their fallen but still breathing bodies. "The Twins?"

"Did it never occur to you?" Gabranth asked. "Only people with ranking such as theirs would be able to obtain such information and deliver it to Galbatorix with ease, for they are magicians. They, who search the minds of people joining the Varden, are able to extract every single piece of valuable information they need and then relay it to your enemies."

Returning to his normal self, Ajihad had ordered the guards to take the two of them to a cell in which to be heavily guarded. "I would never have thought it to be them."

"Aye." The young dwarf muttered, stroking his beard. "They always were a nasty pair, those Twins. What is it that you'll do with them?"

The leader of the Varden sighed, rubbing his temples. "Execution. Treason has a high price."

_Treason. _He ignored the words as the elf, with muscular grace, slinked over to them. When she came to a stop in front of him, he asked her the first thing on his mind. "Will you tell me your name now, or shall I continue to call you elf?"

A gleam appeared in her eyes. "Arya. That is my name. And should we call you Eragon or Gabranth?"

He had left the Empire, he had joined the Varden. All of his past deeds, he could throw them away, to not have them part of himself any longer. He didn't have the need to wear a mask anymore, nor bear the name Gabranth a moment longer. He lifted his helm, glancing at his reflection in it. A helm that had been a part of him for four years. Conscious of everyone staring at him, he noticed his mother's tearstained gaze on his face, along with Brom's nervous stare.

_You have your entire life ahead of you. You've used the name Gabranth because you were afraid to tarnish the name given to you by your mother. Now, you can reclaim it and live up to it, Eragon. _Saphira said.

At that, he glanced back up at Arya, his eyes shining brightly. "Eragon, please. Call me Eragon."


	7. Chapter 6

Ajihad and Hrothgar may have accepted him into Tronjheim, but Eragon knew that their feelings of mistrust had yet to be completely quelled. He may have won a small extent of their favor by exposing the Twins, but he knew in the end, they still did not trust him as they trusted Murtagh. But that did not unsettle him in the least. In fact, it pleased him to see such leaders wary and cautious of another strong presence amongst. They were displeased when he refused to let Arya examine his memory.

"If you want our trust…" Hrothgar began, but Eragon cut across the dwarf, in a cold tone.

"My mind is my only true sanctuary that I may claim as my own. I will not allow just anyone to sift through my thoughts and memories. It's the principle of the matter you see." He replied. "I do not think you would let anyone into your thoughts would you, _your majesty?_" he spoke the last part with much needed sarcasm.

"You are not making it possible for us to accept you without ill grace." Ajihad said, with a frown. "We cannot trust you if we don't know your true intentions with the Varden. You could easily betray us, as you betrayed your king."

"That demands the question, was I ever truly loyal to him? For how can you betray that which you never held true allegiance to?" Arya stood to the side of the discussion. Maintaining a calm demeanor, as she watched both sides argue with one another. Eventually, after another minute of heated discussion, did she decide to become involved.

"The night is late and I am sure we all would like to rest. Let us bring an end to these arguments," she turned to fully face him with a regal demeanor. "Give me your oath in the ancient language that you have no intentions of harming the Varden or willingly serving Galbatorix once more and you will lend us your strength to fight Galbatorix." Turning to Ajihad she asked, "Would that suffice?" Taking a moment to think, he replied that it would.

Eragon stared at her for a long time, neither of them blinking. With a sigh, he at last gave his word. "Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal, eka malabra du Varden né haina." _Upon my word as a Rider, I mean the Varden no harm_. She nodded, in a sharp birdlike motion.

"He has given us his oath." Hrothgar swore heavily but let it pass while Ajihad remained silent. They were not going to let this pass easily, Eragon thought. But they couldn't imprison him either, with his power he could circumvent any prison they could devise. They had no choice but to treat him with grace. The thought of that made him smile.

"Orik!" the young dwarf that had spat at Eragon earlier ambled forward at Ajihad's command. "Show our Rider where he will be staying and bring him a spare change of clothes. I would rather not see that crest again." He eyed the crimson flames on Eragon's cape and Saphira's armor with distaste. Orik nodded with great reluctance. He may have been pleased at Eragon's acceptance to join the Varden, but such feelings soon melted away when he had refused to be examined.

With that, Ajihad left; dismissing the battalion of armed dwarves and humans, with a gesture. Hrothgar, with one last glance at him, turned and strode away as well into the heart of Tronjheim. Eragon turned coming to face his mother, father, half-brother and his dragon. Standing to the side were his servants, all nervous as to what manner of punishment he would have in store for them. One glance at Murtagh brought immense feelings of distaste to him. After his earlier venting of emotions, he started to regain a sense of normalcy.

"Lord Eragon!" within seconds, his servants were upon him, anxious and fearful, apologetic expressions on their faces. Finny and Bard, however, were the two most emotional while Desdemona and Rosalie were the most composed. Finny, the youngest of the group, was clenching his hands before him, something he did when he was restless. His light hair, a mixture of red and blonde framed his face while green eyes stared up at Eragon. "We're sorry! When Lady Selena said that she was leaving we tried stopping her but—"

"Calm down, Finny." Eragon said slightly irritated at Finny's outburst.

"What Finny is trying to say is that we couldn't stop her Ladyship without the use of force." Desdemona spoke up, she was a beautiful woman with straight black hair and violet eyes, her heart shape face was haughty, in his opinion her expression looked somewhat like Arya's at the moment. "And I'm sure that you wouldn't want that, Lord Eragon. Please, forgive us."

And with that, the two women sunk in a low curtsy while the men bowed. He stared down at them. It was true, he didn't want his mother running off to the Varden but he knew that they wouldn't want to hurt her in anyway. Rubbing his temples, he sighed. "At least you're all useful for something."

Just like that, their expressions became one of pure joy. Bard, who was the oldest amongst the servants, grinned ruffling his blonde hair, his blue eyes sparkling. "What did I tell you? I knew his Lordship wouldn't hold it against us!"

"You knew? You were shaking with fear when you heard news of him arriving!" Rosalie accused. Another beautiful woman, whose most endearing features were her soft, wavy, red locks and bright green eyes. Why had he taken them in to begin with, he wondered? After letting the four of them chatter amongst themselves, his irritation had gotten the best of him.

"If you have nothing else to do but argue amongst yourself, I suggest you go and do something useful!" he ordered.

"Yes, my lord!" with that they left, running, scrambling, and walking to Tronjheim. Orik, who was watching their progress, had a thoughtful expression on his face.

"An odd group of servants you've hired." He turned his eyes back to his mother; she whispered something to Brom and Murtagh before walking over to him. And there he saw it, a gleam in her eyes that he had never seen before. She was truly happy, here in the Varden.

"I'm glad you didn't punish them. Finny and Bard looked beyond miserable when I dragged them here." His mother said, in her gentle voice. "I thought that they might drown themselves when we reached the waterfall."

He could just imagine how hysterical those two were. Orik glanced about them. "Let us be off."

With that he led them with Eragon and his mother following in tow, Arya having snuck away earlier. As they walked through the tunnels, Orik spoke. "For now, you'll be resting in one of Tronjheim's finest quarters. Seeing as you need to change your outfit," he eyed Eragon's armor and cape with distaste. "But tomorrow, you shall see the true place in which a Rider and his dragon would usually sleep, above the Isidar Mithrim, the star sapphire. Your dragon is likely inspecting the area now."

He glanced about not realizing that Saphira wasn't following them. Eragon rubbed his temples as they walked, today was a tiring day. He would make amends for ignoring Saphira tomorrow. They came to a stop in front of a large mahogany door. He was grateful for Tronjheim, like Orthíad, had taken into consideration the heights of other races. "Here is where you'll stay for the time being. By morning I will have clothes brought to you. Rest well."

When he was gone, Eragon turned to his mother. "Where are you staying?"

Her answer was a vague, as she waved about the hallway. "Somewhere close by."

He nodded, throwing open the door to his quarters; it was a spacious room indeed. An iron wrought bed stood in the center of the room, which had a writing desk against one wall that held an oil lamp. It was plain but comfortable. He was surprised when his mother stepped into the room as well, closing the door behind her. "Is something wrong?"

She stared at him for a long time and before he knew, his mother had thrown herself on him, freely sobbing. Trying not to let the sharp contours of his armor dig into her, he gently settled her on the bed, pulling away to stare at her face which had tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. "What's wrong?" he repeated.

"I just—I just feel beyond guilty that I had to drag you here in such a way." She explained. "I can imagine your panic when I left the castle and what was worse, was that during the entire journey I always teetered on the edge of uncertainty; to go back or to join the Varden. I didn't want to hurt you." And suddenly she started sobbing harder than ever. "That's all I've ever done though, hurt my youngest son."

Eragon sighed. His mother was quite distressed. What she needed was a good night's sleep to calm her nerves. Though he pressed her, for the issue had been itching at him as well. "Then why did you leave if you knew it would hurt me so much? You know how important you are to me, but yet, you still left without as much as a thought."

She wiped at her eyes, throwing brown locks of hair out of her face. "I didn't want to see you suffer anymore. To watch you wear a mask for the rest of your life. How would any mother want for their child? I love you, Eragon. I love your smile and to see you happy, but living in the Empire didn't make you happy."

"And here does? They're all cautious of me, a snake in their midst." He whispered. His mother reached out with a hand to place it on the side of his face.

"It was just as Ajihad said, if you do a number of good goods here, then that will surely overlook all of your past misdeeds." She replied softly. "And I know you'll be happy here because you'll be free, Eragon. Something you and Saphira had longed for so long. And maybe you will learn to open up more of yourself to the world around you. See new sights and meet new people."

"Who would want to meet me?" he scoffed. "I, who have killed many of the Varden's allies, members and spies."

"In time, things will change." They sat there, or rather his mother sat on the bed while he knelt before her. Moving to his feet, he turned his back to her, deciding to change the subject.

"Why did you decide to leave the castle? Was it because you heard news of the new Rider and Brom?"

"It was. I had to see for myself whether he was truly alive. And if he was, you could finally receive closure Eragon. To know if your father truly wanted to abandon you or not. I knew that if I came here, having sent you that note, you would surely come chasing after me. And you did." She explained, pausing. "I know you hate your father and possibly your brother, but please, try to treat them politely."

He sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time before turning to face his mother. "It is late and you need to rest. We'll speak more of these matters when you aren't in such a restless state."

And within half an hour his mother was tucked underneath the sheets of the bed, sleeping peacefully, her sword and dagger on the table along with her boots, bracers and greaves. That night, he sat there in the chair by the table, deep in thought. How far had Durza managed to travel already? Had he made it to Orthíad yet and assembled the Urgals to attack Farthen Dûr? Regardless, Eragon would advise Ajihad of their plans. Even if he had harbored any thoughts of withholding the information, to see the Varden's destruction, his oath compelled him to inform Ajihad. Besides, his mother was happy here in the Varden, along with Saphira. She may not have voiced it aloud, but he could feel it through their connection, she was a _free_ dragon now, amongst her brethren, Thorn and the baby dragon that he had yet to see.

He was curious, who did had it hatched for, he wondered. He sat there thinking until sleep decided to take him and when he woke his mother was gone and resting on the bed was a pile of clothing. A dark tunic made of the finest cloth and a pair of tan breeches awaited him with black leather boots resting at the edge of the bed.

He had donned them with reluctance and when he was done, Eragon found himself staring at his helm again. He looked like a different person, nothing like Gabranth. Placing the helm on the table with the rest of his armor, he left his room in search of Saphira. He didn't have a hard time searching, for she was waiting for him under the star sapphire. _Good morning, little one._

_It is. _He reached up to stroke her snout. _How did you sleep? Well, I hope._

_I did. And you?_

_Just as well. _He decided then to apologize to her. _I am sorry for ignoring you like that yesterday. I hadn't even noticed when you left._

She gently nudged him. _You were experiencing much, it is understandable. I do not blame you at all. _She blinked before gesturing him towards one of the tunnels. _Let us go for a walk; I think we both need it._

Eragon nodded and began to walk in the direction that she gestured to, with Saphira softly padding behind. They had just turned a corner, when something small and green jumped on him. It took him a moment to recognize the scales lining the creature, dark and rich, and the tail that kept swatting him in the chest. _A dragon! _Saphira's voice echoed painfully in his head.

The dragon, upon seeing Saphira, jumped off him and landed in front of her. It let out a squeak at the sight of her, before bounding up the side of her front leg and onto her back. A deep rumble formed in Saphira's chest as she was amused at the baby dragon's action.

_But who is its Rider?_

His question was answered as stepping around the corner, was Arya, appearing as regal and dignified as they had first met. He watched as the baby dragon jumped down from Saphira and into the elf's arms. "You are the Rider of the last egg?" he asked, the shock of the revelation overwhelming him.

Fate did have a way of bringing things together, Eragon thought as he watched Arya and her dragon. She nodded, holding up her right hand for him to clearly see the gedwëy insignia. "He hatched for me a few days after we had escaped Gil'ead."

Eragon looked at her thoughtfully. Arya turned to address Saphira respectfully. "We meet again, Saphira."

Saphira acknowledged her. _Though now in better circumstances. Does he have a name? _She gestured towards the baby dragon.

Arya shook her head. "No, he is still too young to speak." Her green eyes turned back to him. "Your new clothing seems to fit you well."

"It does, doesn't it? Though I can't help but feel a little exposed, having worn full armor for the greater portion of the last four years."

She replied, with a small hint of a smile. "I hope you are not too uncomfortable. Walk with me; I would like to speak with you."

He nodded and the two of them fell into step beside one another. After a moment's silence did she finally speak, her voice had a hint of trill, as if she were about to sing. "I owe you a debt that must be repaid. You saved my life. That can never be forgotten. And you gave me something precious, which in turn grew to give the Varden hope."

His eyes darted down to the dragon before returning to her face. "Then I shall see if there is ever a time in which you may repay such a debt."

She nodded, turning to gaze ahead of him. "You never answered my question back in Gil'ead. Why did you rescue me? Why did you let me leave with Murtagh and the last egg?"

He shrugged. "I rather you not die at the hands of Durza. I have told you before haven't I? If you're going to fight for the Varden, being alive will come in handy." His expression darkened. "And I would rather you not meet Galbatorix."

She opened her mouth to say more, but a guard rushed up to them. The two of them turned to him. Eragon watched as the young man's eyes flickered to Arya in awe before stopping to rest on Eragon. "Ajihad requests your presence in his study, Arya and Eragon."

Arya dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "I will lead Eragon there." The young man nodded and with one last glance towards them, ran back the way he came. They walked in silence, taking four sharp turns before stopping before a massive cedar door, stained black with age. Arya pulled it open and allowed him to walk in before her. Eragon entered an elegant, two-story study paneled with rows of cedar bookshelves. An iron-wrought staircase wound up to a small balcony with two chairs and a reading table. White lanterns hung along the walls and ceiling so a book could be read anywhere in the room. The stone floor was covered by an intricate oval rug. At the far end of the room, Ajihad sat behind a large walnut desk.

He glanced up at their arrival. "Eragon, Arya please seat yourselves." Both of them slid into an armchair before Ajihad, as Saphira Settled behind them and the baby dragon rested on Arya's lap. Ajihad studied Eragon with a critical eye. "Those clothes suit you." He stated.

Eragon nodded. "They do quite well, thank you. But you didn't call me here for pleasantries did you?"

Ajihad sighed, and for once, Eragon saw some of his age. "I called you here to speak of the Twins." He glanced at Arya, who stiffened. "You deserve to hear what I have to say, as you've lost two companions due to them, Arya."

She nodded, her stiff posture never relaxing.

Ajihad returned his eyes to Eragon. "Since this is the opportune time to test your loyalty and see if you've truly abandoned the Empire, Eragon," His voice grew grave and his expression solemn.

"I'm placing you as the twin's executioner."


	8. Chapter 7

**Hello again everyone! I was hard pressed to get this chapter up but it's up! I'm not going to say much so you can all get to your reading. I can't wait to upload the battle with Durza. Happy reading! Eragon=CP. R&R!**

They sat in silence, taking time to contemplate Ajihad's suggestion. Eragon felt sorry for the man. Executing the Twins was not as much of a test as he believed it to be. While it would prove his loyalty in a firm manner, morally it would not bother him in the least. He had always hated the Twins and their demeaning messages that were sent to him. Killing the Twins would almost be like stepping on an ant. It did not matter to him. _Eragon, since we're here, we might as well take the opportunity to inform Ajihad about the Urgals' plans._

_Yes, you are right._ He nodded. How to broach the topic? Trying to devise an eloquent way to address the subject, Eragon soon gave up when he found that he could not. Instead, he decided to speak plainly. "Executing the Twins won't be an issue. Also, if you can spare the time," Eragon began, straightening in his armchair, "there is another matter I need to discuss with you."

Ajihad nodded, motioning for him to continue. "Durza is leading an army of Urgals to Farthen Dûr." Even for someone as cold and aloof as Eragon, he hated the way it came off his tongue. It was if he were discussing the weather. Shocked expressions spread across both Ajihad's and Arya's faces.

"They're going to attack Farthen Dûr?" Ajihad asked. He nodded. _Did I stutter? _Eragon thought, irritated.

"When?" asked Arya, her appearance by now calm.

Eragon shrugged. "Soon. Today, tomorrow, or maybe the day after. I don't know when, but I do know their course of action." _I helped them devise it._ He watched as Ajihad rang a small bell, and soon after a guard entered the room. Ajihad ordered him to bring Brom, Orik, Murtagh and someone by the name of Jörmundur.

"The Twins' execution will have to wait then." Ajihad said with a sigh. Eragon frowned. It seemed a foolish thing to do. If Durza burst in, he could free those two imbeciles and they could wreak havoc on the small army that the Varden possessed.

"I think the wiser plan would be to kill them before Durza arrives here and has the chance to free them." Eragon said. "I would rather not have two spellcasters running amok during the battle."

"Then it'll have to be a private execution," Ajihad murmured. His eyes returned to Eragon. "How large are their numbers?"

"Quite massive." Eragon smiled wolfishly. "Though when compared to the fact that you have two large dragons fighting on your side, such numbers are less threatening." Saphira hummed contently behind him. _And imagine their confusion when they see you, Eragon. The human who earned their respect through Tarok's challenge of strength._

He nodded. Yes, another advantage to be had. The doors burst open again and in walked Brom, Murtagh, Orik and a man whom Eragon had yet to meet, who could be none other than Jörmundur. Ajihad introduced the two to one another. "Eragon, meet Jörmundur, my right-hand man in military matters."

He nodded and stood, kicking his armchair out behind him, as Arya did the same. They stood around the desk as Ajihad spread out a map of the Beor Mountains. "Something has happened then, Ajihad?" Jörmundur asked.

"We're going to be attacked, if," he glanced sharply at Eragon, "my sources are correct."

"The oath I gave would not allow me to lie, even if I tried to. Nor is my information inaccurate," he replied coldly. "If I may?" He gestured towards the map. Ajihad nodded, allowing him reign to explain their situation. He pointed to three different locations on the map. "They're going to attack Tronjheim in three separate areas within Farthen Dûr. They are traveling from Orthíad. Galbatorix has renamed the city Ithro Zhada, in an attempt to deceive you, in case you learned of his plans," he continued; ignoring the murmured curses. Only Ajihad and Arya remained silent. "I'm unsure if Durza will be leading the attack directly, but their main goal is the capture of Tronjheim. Because if they seize that—"

"Then they'll destroy the Varden and gain control of the dwarves. It's the very heart of Farthen Dûr," Arya finished. He nodded.

"The only things we have as an advantage are surprise, and the dragons," Eragon declared. "Surprise being the fact that since we have the upper hand, we can prepare and despite their overwhelming numbers, prevail. And if we can gather enough oil and other flammable materials, we can let the Urgals bake in flames."

"It's surprising how you can easily talk about killing Urgals, when they were your allies a few days ago," Murtagh muttered. His temper flared as he glared at the tall, dark-haired boy.

"The Urgals were never my allies," he said casually. "It disgusted me to see them raid our towns and villages." He turned back to the map. "They know that if you were to find out, you would be able to collapse the tunnels, but seeing as all of Tronjheim is above a network of tunnels, collapsing every one wouldn't bring the tide of battle to our favor."

"Aye," agreed Orik.

"We need only to collapse a few, to influence their chosen paths. Otherwise we may force them too far from their intended exits. That could lead to them encircling our position. If they had us back to back, it would be a losing battle." He pointed to three different spots on the map, each further from the last. "A battalion will be waiting for them at each point. If we can get them to follow those particular routes, we can set a trap."

"A sound strategy." Jörmundur spoke with a confident tone, his eyes following every trace Eragon made on the map.

"There is also another matter of confusion that will work to our advantage," said Eragon.

"Confusion?" asked Brom. "How so?"

Eragon attempted to not look annoyed by Brom having spoken directly to him. He did his best to answer the question without straining his voice. "Before Saphira and I left Orthíad, I gained the Urgals' trust in a challenge of strength. If they still consider me one of their 'formidable leaders', then it will surely cause confusion if they see me fighting against them within your numbers."

Ajihad nodded before taking control of the meeting. "Arya, I would like for you and a number of dwarves to collapse some of the tunnels inside Tronjheim. We cannot allow them to enter the city, as Eragon has said. Murtagh, you and Orik shall collapse those outside the city. They have to take the bait and divert to the tunnels of our choosing. Eragon, I'll have a guard lead you to where the Twins are so you may proceed with their execution."

He nodded as Ajihad sent for the guard. "Meet me under the star sapphire once you've all completed your tasks, I would like for us to form ranks there."

Leaving the room, he broke off from Arya, Murtagh, and Orik, Saphira following him down the hall as they trailed behind the guard. The guard led him into a small hallway that was lined with cells, bringing him to the one at the end on the left. Eragon stood in front of it and murmured incantations, taking off the wards he had placed to prevent the Twins escaping using magic. When he was done, he nodded at the guard who unlocked it and swung it open. Stepping inside he found great pleasure at the sight of the two men sitting on the dirty ground, their robes covered with small smudges of filth. "Ah, we meet again," said Eragon.

"And what would you want?" one twin said boldly. "Have you come here to boast? Wait until the King finds out."

"I wonder when that will happen. In the meantime, the task has been set to me to dispose of the filth." He smiled when their eyes widened in surprise. "I've always hated killing helpless people. But I'll be sure to make it quick."

"You wouldn't dare! If the King hears word of this—"

"Enough. Do not think you can frighten me with such threats. Aiding the Varden has already assured me of death, or worse," Eragon muttered, a dark expression passing over his face. He pulled out one of his swords, remembering all of the times the Twins had ridiculed him as a child. His expression became both cold and pitiless as he stared at them. "Now, since you are twins, let's see how much love you have for one another. Who shall be the first to die?" The Twins looked at one another. Neither of them spoke a word.

"You don't want to decide? Very well, I shall make the decision for you." Eragon said vehemently. He advanced on the one closest to him, ignoring the shouts of the other twin. With a flash of his arm, his silver blade easily pierced the bald man through the heart and reappeared through his back. The ground was splattered with blood when he pulled his blade out. Hiding his disgust, he pushed away the feelings that rose of having to kill the twins in such a helpless situation. He would have preferred to kill them in a battlefield, in honest combat.

He turned from the limp body to see the second twin slumped against the wall, twitching wildly. A soundless howl escaped his lips. Eragon ignored him, slowly drawing back his blade. The second twin was then able to regain control over himself. Breathing heavily, he looked at Eragon with loathing in his eyes.

"Curse you, Eragon! May you leave Alagaësia and never return!" His blade cut through the air, piercing the remaining twin in the chest. He pulled his blade free, wiping the blood on one of the twin's robe. _Leave Alagaësia_, he thought, staring down at the two dead bodies strewn over the floor, as he sheathed his blade. _As if I am not cursed enough._

Leaving the cell, he nodded towards the guard. "It is done." Without another word, he approached Saphira, who waited for him at the end of the hallway. _To the Isidar Mithrim._

_Yes, _he nodded. It did not take long for them to reach the large central chamber, underneath the star sapphire, where Ajihad stood with Brom, Hrothgar, Orik and everyone else of importance. Eragon stopped before the dark skinned man. "You've done it then?"

"If you would like proof, one of your guards can go and drag their bodies here for you to see," Eragon replied. Ajihad nodded, letting the matter pass, before turning back to the assembly.

"It has been decided that we will spilt our forces into three battalions. I shall lead one, as will King Hrothgar. Jörmundur, you will lead the third battalion closet to Tronjheim with the three Riders," Ajihad explained.

"Would it not be prudent to have one Rider accompany you? Arya, Eragon or Murtagh could lend great assistance to your Battalion," said Jörmundur.

"It's a necessary strategy. We need our strongest warriors to defend the heart of Farthen Dûr. If it lends any comfort to your concerns; your battalion will have the smallest amount of soldiers." Jörmundur nodded in acceptance.

Ajihad nodded. "A scout is searching through the tunnels as we speak. We will have information on their movements soon, for now; you should all prepare and rest. This battle will be hard fought."

With that they dispersed, going their separate ways. Catching sight of Arya and her dragon, Eragon voiced a concern to Saphira. _Her dragon cannot fight, he is far too young. Arya is surely concerned for his safety._

Saphira agreed. _Yes, he is but a hatchling._

Thinking quickly and with Saphira's encouragement, he reluctantly came to a decision. Before Arya left, he called to her, eyeing the young dragon in her arms. "I doubt you will bring him with you into battle, so where will you leave him?"

She eyed him closely, bright emerald orbs flashing. "My quarters, though I would rather not leave him on his own."

Eragon pointed to the dragonhold above them. "Before the battle, Saphira could fly him to the dragonhold, where my servants would guard him. If they are at all threatened, they will alert me. We could fly there in time to aid them."

Her brows furrowed at his suggestion. "Are you certain of their abilities?"

"They are more capable than they appear. I would trust them with Saphira and my mother's lives. Your dragon would be safe with them. I give you my word," Eragon asserted. After a few moments of silence on her part, she nodded.

"Let us go with your plan then." He nodded as she walked away. To his surprise, Saphira followed. _What? I want to spend more time with the hatchling._

As she walked away, he noticed, as he had noticed earlier, Arya's movements were unusually stiff. She seemed to be struggling with something. Ajihad's words floated through his thoughts. _You deserve to hear what I have to say, as you've lost two companions due to them, Arya._

_She wanted revenge._ He could both understand and sympathize with her pain. Feeling that it was still too early to retire for the night, Eragon began to wander the halls. After walking for some time, he came to a hallway adorned with carvings on either side. At the end of the hallway, an unusually large cat sat, licking its shaggy paw. It glanced at him, and he saw a flash of slanted red eyes.

_A werecat?_ He thought curiously.

The werecat shook its rough mane, and yawned languorously, displaying long fangs. It then stretched, stood quickly and with a flick of its paws, disappeared around a corner. Eragon — letting curiosity take the better of him — walked after the werecat. After rounding the corner, he saw that the werecat had waited for him before a door.

_You are quite slow for a Rider, aren't you? _The werecat asked, touching his mind.

_I did not feel the need to run._

_Much more refined than your brother, I like that._

_You have met Murtagh before?_

The werecat nodded. _He didn't take my advice and ended up getting shocked by an ancient artifact. And may I ask your name?_

_Eragon. And what should I call you?_

_Solembum. _His red eyes regarded Eragon lazily. _You are far more educated than Murtagh. He thought I was a regular cat when we had first met. Coming? _He turned towards the door and with a yowl, he slid inward. He cautiously followed the werecat inside. Eragon found himself in an earthy two-room suite, lavishly decorated with carved wood and clinging plants. The air was warm, fresh and humid. Bright lanterns hung on the walls and from the low ceiling. Piles of intriguing items cluttered the floor, obscuring corners. A large four-poster bed curtained by even more plants was in a far room.

In the center of the main room, in a stuffed leather chair that was seated behind a large wooden desk, was a young woman with thick curls. To his surprise, sitting before her in a similar chair was Rosalie. "Lord Eragon!" She hurriedly stood at his appearance. "What are you doing here?"

He noticed with further surprise, that Solembum arched his back against Rosalie's leg. "Following Solembum. And you?"

"Just meeting some old friends. I'll be on my way now." She turned to whisper something to the woman in the leather seat, before curtsying to him. "My lord."

"Before you leave, tell Desdemona that I would like to have a word with the both of you tomorrow." She nodded and hurried from the room. He would ask her about that later. Eragon turned back to the woman before him. She waved brightly at him.

"Sit down, boy, don't stand there all day!" he did as she said and sat before her, curiosity getting the better of him. As he studied the room, he found it odd that she had such things and was in the company of a werecat. The only reason she would have all of these strange plants and that she had befriended such a creature would be if she were a witch. "Solembum has told me that your name is Eragon." He nodded. "We are well met, I am Angela."

"It is a pleasure."

She sat forward, studying him. "I've heard much about you since your arrival. Brother to Murtagh, son to Brom, and what's more, you're the King's Rider, Gabranth! Or you used to be, I should say. A most intriguing life you've led thus far. And I thought your brother's life was interesting when I told him his future. It makes me wonder—"

She hurriedly left her seat, bustling about the room before returning with a black pouch and thick cloth that she laid on the table. "Would you like your fortune told?"

He raised a brow. "Why the sudden offer?"

"Because of Solembum, he rarely speaks to anyone. I have only offered to do this for three other people and two of them were your family. Your mother, Selena and your brother, Murtagh." He felt himself frown at the mention of them both. "The other was a blind beggar, but he refused to listen to his fortune."

"How would you predict my fortune?"

Angela poured a handful of smooth bones onto the cloth, each slightly longer than a finger. Runes and symbols were inscribed along their sides. "These," she said, touching them gently, "are the knucklebones of a dragon. Don't ask where I got them; it is a secret I won't reveal. They do not lie, though understanding them is complicated. But understand that to know one's fate can be a terrible thing. You must be sure of your decision."

_If my mother and if Murtagh had theirs told, surely I can withstand my own fate. _He nodded. "Cast the bones for me."

Angela's face became grave as she grasped the bones in each hand. Her eyes closed, and her lips moved into a soundless murmur. Then she said powerfully, "_Manin! Wydra! Hügin!" _Memory! Fate! Thought! From that moment, Eragon knew that she was much more than a common spell caster. She tossed the bones and they fell, jumbled together.

Finally Angela leaned back and heaved a long sigh. "This," she said, "is one of the hardest readings I've ever done. Maybe even harder than your brother's. And let me tell you, it was hard. Your future is nigh impossible to see. But I've managed to wrestle a few answers from it."

Solembum jumped onto the table and settled there, watching them both. "I will start here," she said slowly, "because it is the clearest to understand."

The symbol on the bone was a long horizontal line with a circle resting on it. "Infinity, or long life," said Angela quietly. "It is natural, as you're a Rider, though this is only the second time I've seen it. The first was for your brother." She moved onwards. "Now the bones grow harder to read, as the rest are in a confused pile." Angela touched three of them. "Here the wandering path, the lightning bolt, and sailing ship all lie together— a pattern I've never seen, only heard of. You have many choices that lie before you, battles raging around you, some fought for your sake. There is a doom upon you that of which I do not know. And the last bone, the sailing ship, is impossible to misunderstand. You will leave this land forever."

Suddenly the twin's voice echoed in his mind. _May you leave Alagaësia and never return! _He shook the thought away as she continued. She pointed to another bone and the symbol upon it was flames. "Hatred and vengeance seem to dominate you." He nodded for that was true. "And soon you shall face a great sorrow."

_A great sorrow? _Angela rubbed her temples and breathed deeply. "The next bone is easier to read and perhaps more pleasant." Eragon examined it and saw a rose blossom inscribed between the horns of a crescent moon.

Angela smiled and said, "An epic romance is in your future, extraordinary, as the moon indicates—for that is a magical symbol—and strong enough to outlast empires. I cannot say if this passion will end happily, but your love is of noble birth and heritage. She is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare."

Eragon frowned as he sat back. _Love?_ _Don't make me laugh, who would I come to love? _But in the back of his mind, he had an inkling that he knew who Angela spoke of. He sighed, for his life was beyond complicated. His eyes traveled back to the bones, resting the longest on the last one, taking in the rose and moon.

**So what did you all think? Good? I'll have the following chapters up as fast as I can but my life is getting pretty hectic. The fortune that Angela told is basically the same in the book but I changed some things here and there, not that much. Anyways, I can't wait for you all to read to chapter with the fighting with Durza, which I shall post after this chapter I think or maybe the next. Don't forget to review! I'm open for suggestions.**


	9. Chapter 8

**Well, another chapter up! You can't believe how excited I am to write the battle in Farthen Dûr next. I'm going to keep this short and sweet so you could all go on reading. :) I don't own Eragon. But still happy reading! R&R!**

As Ajihad had expected, a scout returned two days later, bloodied, wounded and speaking incoherently about a mass of Urgals traveling to Farthen Dûr. The Varden started preparations the same day; women and children were sent out to safety in the surrounding valleys. Oil and other flammables were collected and poured where he had directed. Large defensive stakes were made and placed at the tunnel entrances. During the preparations, Eragon found himself standing in a circle of three women with a dragon hatchling in their midst. Saphira volunteered to help with the stakes.

They stared at each other, Eragon finding the situation unnerving. With the revelation of Angela's prophecy, he studied Arya more carefully. Everything Angela had said fit her description, except for noble birth and heritage. Yet, when he had first met her, she had displayed such authority; he thought he was indeed talking to a princess. "But my lord!" Desdemona said indignantly, interrupting his train of thought. "How can we help defend you if we're guarding the hatchling?"

"You can help a great deal." Eragon replied. He did not understand why both women glared at him with such intensity. Despite being a Rider and a half-elf, he had never understood the ways of females. To try to interfere was to tread on alien matters that one could not hope to comprehend.

"Why not have Finny and Bard guard the dragon?" Rosalie asked. The woman, who normally was very kind and gentle natured, was fuming on the spot. Saphira — who had been watching from his eyes — let her amusement wash over their connection. _You have much to understand of women if you ever intend to take a mate. They can be deadlier than the sharpest of swords._

_Indeed. _He had learned firsthand how odd women could be, by having a female dragon as a life partner. "You know as well as I do that Bard and Finny will sooner forget the presence of Arya's dragon than to protect it." For a reason unbeknownst to Eragon, their tempers only rose higher.

"My lord, what of your mother?" Desdemona challenged.

"She and Brom are going to remain in the Dragon Hold as well, so you may guard the three of them together."

"What of your own safety?"

"What of me?" he said. "I am fully capable of defending myself. Though I am grateful you are concerned for me." He bowed his head slightly at them. "It would please me for you to take on this task, for I trust only the two of you to do it competently."

When he lifted his head, they were standing there, quiet and resigned. Finally, Desdemona spoke. "We shall guard the hatchling with our lives along with Lady Selena." Arya, who had been quiet throughout the entire argument, spoke.

"I thank you for your assistance in this matter."

Rubbing his temple, Eragon thanked the gods that the ordeal was over. "I'll leave the three, no, four of you," he corrected as the green dragon let out an indignant half squeak, half roar at being forgotten, "to your own business."

Turning on his heels, he left their presence with relief. That was an odd event. Usually Desdemona and Rosalie were very agreeable with anything he could ask them to do. However, when he had instructed them to guard Arya's dragon, they went into a rage. He came to a stop by Orik, who was directing Finny where to put the stakes. The dwarf glanced up at his approach. "That looked like a rather nasty scene, those three women."

"Aye that it was."

"Your servants are very helpful, Argetlam." Orik said knowingly before gesturing to Finny. "His strength is unnatural."

Eragon nodded. "It is why I hired him. Finny is an unusual boy, despite his past." He may act idiotic as well, but Eragon held a small trace of respect for the boy. He had been through a terrible ordeal, yet was still able to remain whole and happy, unlike Eragon.

"Lord Eragon!" Finny said in his cheerful tone, spotting him. "Am I doing a good job?"

He nodded. "An amazing job, I should tell you. It seems you are being a big help to the workers around here." That was enough to send the boy flying back to work. Rarely did he ever bestow praise on anyone. Deciding that he should lend his assistance; he went to the armory, where he could help distribute armor and weapons to the soldiers.

Taking a piece of twine that was knotted together long enough to measure most any human's height; he busied himself measuring the warriors. He gave them armor that would fit them well and weapons that suited them. "You seem to have a knack for that." He did not have to glance up to know the voice belonged to Arya.

"Do you need to be fitted?" he asked, surely Arya had her own armor. She shook her head.

"I was wandering about and ended up here. A coincidence it is, to find you here as well." She said, leaning against one of the tables. He noticed that her dragon was not with her. When he voiced this, she said simply, "He was interested in Saphira."

A small flicker of irritation welled up within Eragon. It was not that he didn't want her to speak with her own kind, but the more Saphira and Arya's hatchling were in company, the more interested they each became. He was sure that soon, he would have to compete for the sapphire dragon's attention. "I see," he muttered, attempting not to crush the human soldier's arm as he laced the man's greaves together.

When he was done he turned back to Arya. "Is there something you needed?"

"An answer to a question," she replied. He raised a brow, giving her consent to ask whatever was on her mind. "Why do you look as you do? Most human Riders do not acquire such appearances after even a decade of bonding with their dragon. Even if they did, most never looked as close to my race as you do."

"I wondered why no one had asked me that," he said. "Saphira changed me. I needed to become stronger. She agreed and with her magic and Galbatorix's ugly spells, she granted me strength and power. An unforeseen effect was my appearance."

She nodded, deep in thought. While she stood thinking, Eragon moved on, fitting a dwarf next in line. It was not until he had finished fitting two more dwarves and a human archer that Arya spoke again. "Did Galbatorix not offer you more power when you served him?"

"That he did…but I refused. The way in which he acquired his power, in my opinion, is morally wrong." At this her eyes flashed as she turned to him.

"You know how he gets stronger as time passes?"

"I do and I'm sure that your Queen knows it as well." He replied, ignoring her scorching stare. A hand reached out and gripped his wrist forcefully, and he found himself staring into depths of never-ending green.

"What is it, Eragon?"

"I shall tell you when the time is appropriate. Not now, not here." Pulling himself free of her grasp, he turned to the soldier who was waiting to be fitted. He glanced from Arya's dangerous expression to Eragon's cold one with frightened eyes.

Measuring the soldier, Eragon asked questions pertaining to which type of weapon he preferred, returning with a spear for the man. Arya, who was leaning against one of the tables, straightened and with a piece of twine, assisted in helping him measure. He had to admit, her presence was overwhelming the dwarves and humans. Their apprehension was most apparent when she went to measure them. Their body tensed and their answers were spoken quickly.

When they were done with the last soldier, Eragon pulled himself up on one of the tables, letting his long legs tangle a few inches from the ground. Arya did the same and they sat side by side, their arms barely touching. Thoughts of the coming battle loomed over his mind. "Are you prepared to fight the Urgals?" He glanced at her curiously; it was a question he had already answered. She elaborated. "You said so yourself, you won their trust in a challenge of strength, and now you're turning against them. Does it not bother you?"

Eragon turned his gaze upwards, studying the ceiling for a while before answering her question. "Should I be? Someone who betrayed his Empire? Betrayed his people?" When she did not answer, he continued. "I've done many things in my life, things that would make any normal person go mad with grief and sick with sorrow. Betraying people, who I've never held true allegiance towards, would do little to move me."

"I see."

"Do you?" he asked, they sat there, letting silence wash over them. Neither of them spoke, nor showed any indication of speaking. "What will you do after this battle?"

She started to swing her legs in the opposite direction. "I will lead Murtagh to Ellesméra to complete his training, along with our dragons' training and my own. I expect you will accompany us." She replied, impishly.

"Do you think it wise for me to train in Ellesméra?"

"You fear it would not be?" Her green eyes turned to him, displaying curiosity.

"Four years, I've lived as Gabranth, and I've killed as Gabranth," he said slowly. "It would seem your kind has more reason kill me than train such a traitor of a Rider."

"You presume much," she said coldly, eyes flashing.

"Is it wrong to do so?" he went on. "I am sorry if I've caused you offence, but I am certain that I speak the truth. I believe I would not be easily welcomed into your forest."

"Queen Islanzadí would not allow harm to befall you, though it is true that trust will be hard to gain. There is the fact that you saved my life and allowed us to gain another — two — Dragon Riders." They fell silent again, then she spoke. "I have never seen such an odd group as your servants."

"Despite their oddities, they are kind-hearted, and they have the ability to protect my mother while I'm not around," he said. "All four of them have their own unique talents."

"They are very loyal to you," she commented.

"That they are," he agreed, knowing the extent of their loyalties. "But despite their disposition, do not take them for what they are. Like elves, their true natures are hidden behind masks." His brown eyes finally met hers. It was just for a moment, before he returned to studying the ceiling.

"Why did you serve Galbatorix?" His expression tightened and he clenched his jaw. Why did he? Was it his naïveté? Was it his fear? Not being able to withstand her piercing gaze, he spoke quietly.

"You may think it—" suddenly, loud voices interrupted them, and he turned to find Murtagh and Orik entering the armory. At the sight of his half-brother, he stood and turned to them. They stared at each other, brown eyes meeting gray eyes. For the few days that they were there, he had never been able to bring himself to speak directly to his half-brother. At every opportunity, he tried to avoid the other Rider, despite the fact that Thorn was often in company with Saphira.

"We've received word that the Urgals are near and everyone is preparing at the tunnel. You two should get ready as well." Orik turned to Eragon. "Saphira has already been fitted with her armor, your servants wished for me to pass this onto you."

He nodded. "Thank you." With one glance back at Arya, he strode past the two of them and out of the armory. He had refused to wear the armor offered to him by Hrothgar and had chosen instead to don his own armor, so as to confuse the Urgals. Pulling on the familiar metal, he tied the black cape about his shoulders and took hold of his helm, staring at it. As of today, he would fight behind this helm not as Gabranth but as Eragon. Tucking the metal helm underneath his arm, he headed to where his battalion was preparing.

Saphira was there, waiting beside Thorn. The two dragons were fitted with their armor. He had to admit; the sight of them would put fear into any sane person. She turned towards him, taking in the sight of him and his armor. _I have already flown Desdemona, Rosalie and the hatchling to the dragon hold._

_And my mother?_

_Thorn flew her and Brom there as well._

He nodded. _You look frightening. _Her sapphire blue eyes gleamed at his compliment, her tail twitching slightly side from side.

_How sweet of you. _He allowed a smile to flit across his face before it turned grim. _I can hear their progress. They are far, but in time they will come through the tunnel._

_Are you ready to fight the battle that you yourself had claimed the Varden would lose?_

He smirked. _A claim I made only because they did not then have us on their side._

At this, a deep choking sound erupted from between Saphira's maw. He grinned and reached out to gently stroke her blue snout, reveling in her happiness, even as they were about to step into battle. _You should go speak to Arya. She will want to hear the answer to her question._

_And you can speak with Thorn, he seems curious about you as well. A potential mate perhaps? _At this she growled at his back, as he walked away in search of the elf woman.

Hundreds of lanterns were fixed atop poles and stuck into the ground. They provided a great pool of light that glowed like an evening sun. Fires blazed along the rim of the tunnel's roof, huge cauldrons of pitch heating over them. Rows of sharpened saplings were being pounded into the ground to provide a thorny barrier between the battalion and the tunnel. Eragon could make out Finny's form, clad in armor, digging the trench with ease, off to the side Bard filling it with pointy stakes. Eventually Saphira and Thorn wandered over to help and to his distaste, so did Murtagh.

As he turned to study the encampment, he found Arya sitting thirty feet away, her bow in her lap. Eragon's armor clanked together as he made his way towards her and she glanced up at his approach. "You wear the Empire's crest," she stated simply as he sat beside her. He placed his helm on the ground before him, the light from the lantern shining on the metal.

"So that I may confuse the Urgals," he replied coolly. His eyes studied the soldiers, dwarves and humans alike. They were tensed and some nervous. "It seems they haven't fought a battle in some time."

"The humans maybe, but the dwarves, no," Arya said turning her eyes back to him. They sat there comfortably, until Arya finally asked about her question from before, in the armory. "You did not answer my question earlier."

"That is owing to the fact I'd rather not Murtagh, nor anyone else know of my past."

"And yet you tell me." Her eyes became bright with curiosity. "Why is that?"

"I believe that you would not pity me." He watched as Finny fell ungraciously into the trench as he lost his footing. "You asked me why I served Galbatorix when he knew not my true name, nor cast any spells on me. Then I tell you; I was afraid."

Finny had quickly regained his footing and was being berated by Bard. "I was but a child when Saphira hatched for me. How was I to understand that something, which was both a miracle and yet at that time a curse, had happened?" His eyes traveled over to Saphira, who seemed to be conversing with Thorn. "Galbatorix would not permit us to be together until I gave my oath to follow him. He locked us away, and it was a highly... _painful_ experience. Eventually, he came to realize that Saphira was the only female dragon left and his tortures relented. But he still demanded unswerving loyalty. And what could I have done but give it to him? My mother lived in Urû'baen and he had a dragon hatchling who was connected to me. I was at his mercy. I soon gave in, but I refused to give him my oath. At the time, he knew how afraid I was, how powerless I was. There was no way to run, no escape. Galbatorix eventually realized I had accepted my fate and knew not to push, for Saphira would rather kill herself than give her oath, and that would put her race to extinction."

He sighed. "You may call me weak, but that was the only path available for me to survive; for my mother and dragon to survive."

_Eragon…_ Saphira spoke gently in his mind. But she said no more, for words were not needed to describe her affection and love for him. Her unconditional love was the constant that had kept him sane over the years. He turned to stare at Arya, to find an inscrutable expression on her face. "Perhaps, if I had not been afraid, I wouldn't have turned out to be who I am now."

"Even the strongest of minds would have fallen to such an onslaught by Galbatorix, and they have done," Arya affirmed. He felt himself snort. She had an odd way of comforting people, but he found it helpful nonetheless.

"Perhaps you are right." He turned to stare back at the tunnel. He could see from a distance that Murtagh and Orik had gone to sleep. Any seasoned warrior knew to rest whenever possible. There was nothing to gain remaining tensed up, waiting for the battle to start. "Do you think your Queen would be happy to know that at least one elf is a Rider?"

He saw her hands around her bow tighten. "I am not sure, but we both will know when we arrive in Ellesméra."

"If we live long enough to get there, you mean," Said Eragon. She favored him with a faint smile as she nodded. They sat in silence, not speaking but waiting. He did not how long they sat there, but his sensitive ears picked out the scrambling in the tunnel.

Eragon rose in a fluid motion and placing his helm atop his head, he turned to watch as Arya alerted the resting soldiers. They all rose, taking their places. Striding past them, with Saphira behind him and Bard and Finny guarding his flank, he came to a stop before the oil that separated the battalion and the tunnel, a good thirty feet in front of the rest of the warriors. The shouting of harsh voices reached his ears, and he could feel Saphira ready herself behind him.

If all went well, then not too many of their men would die in this battle. If all went well.

**So, what did you all think? Good? I can't wait to upload the next chapter but until then, please review! And also, I have a question for all of you readers. How do you feel about a FF with the concept of Eragon traveling back in time? I've been thinking long on this subject and I wasn't sure whether or not I should write it. But I think it sounds rather interesting, don't you?**


	10. Chapter 9

**Another chapter everyone! The battle! Hehe. I tried my best to write it well, so I hope you all will like it! The next chapter is halfway done! I don't own Eragon. R&R!**

"It has begun!" Bard exclaimed, with an excited expression. Behind Eragon, the troops on the encampment stood alertly with their weapons drawn. Comparatively, he stood silently; patiently watching the tunnel entrance, waiting for them to come bursting through.

Together, he, Saphira and his servants watched the dark mouth of the tunnel from where they stood, thirty feet before the battalion. A minute dragged by, then another . . . and another. Soon the movement behind the rocks became loud enough for normal ears to register. "I hear them!" cried a man. He could feel Finny stiffen beside him as Bard unsheathed his sword. No one moved . . . no one breathed. Somewhere close by, a horse nickered.

Harsh Urgal shouts shattered the air, as dark shapes boiled towards the tunnel's opening. He held his hands up to signal the soldiers to halt in their process of pouring scalding liquid into the tunnel's hungry throat. Then the Urgals emerged, their numbers halting at the sight of him. He recognized the Urgal in the lead, Gashz, who held up his hands to signal his brethren to stop. They did so, presenting a solid wall of bodies to the men and dwarves. Gashz stepped forward, not bothered that he was walking in a pool of oil. He held his head high in a sign of respect. "Lord Gabranth, what is the meaning of this?"

He could hear the Battalion move uneasily behind him. Eragon spoke, his voice possessing power and authority. "Do you and your kin still recognize me as a formidable leader?"

"We do, you have proven to us your strength." Gashz confirmed. Eragon nodded. He gestured towards the tunnel in which they had emerged.

"Then I order you to leave Farthen Dûr, and I grant you your freedom from the Empire." He watched as shock and surprise gripped them, followed by suspicion.

"We have orders from Durza to attack Farthen Dûr and kill every human and dwarf here."

"Think of what you're saying, Gashz," said Eragon. "You follow Durza as your leader, but has he ever won it from you, as is tradition by your kin? No. Instead he takes authority over you and your race without right. I accepted your challenge that was put to me and succeeded. Ushnark has also given me authority over your people, has he not?"

The Urgal nodded. _Good, now if you would just fall for it. _"Then as your leader, I order you to turn back and leave Farthen Dûr!"

They all stood there, waiting breathlessly as Gashz thought on his decision. Finally, the Urgal raised his head. He let out harsh shouts and to his surprise, some of the Urgals began to turn about, leaving Farthen Dûr.

"Very well, Lord Gabranth, I shall heed your orders. But I think that not all of my kin will leave with me." Eragon nodded and watched as he too left until all movement was gone and a significantly smaller wall of Urgals stood in front of him. One of the Urgals stepped forward, raising his sword.

With a fluid motion, Eragon drew both of his swords, the metal gleaming at his side. "I see you refuse to follow my orders," he whispered. "Insubordination pays a high price." _Saphira._

The great sapphire dragon let out a thunderous roar. _They will burn._ He watched as her jaws opened and a great torrent of flames erupted, yellow with a tinge of blue. Immediately the oil caught fire, burning every Urgal within its hungry mouth. He raised his hand and the soldiers began to pour more hot oil into the mouth of the tunnel.

Immediately, arrows began to fly over them from behind, eating away at the Urgal's numbers. Despite many Urgals having followed Gashz, their force was still large. Eragon did not worry; he had Saphira to burn them away. The Urgal line wavered, threatening to break, but they covered themselves with their shields and weathered the attack.

Their army formed a solid mass of bodies that stretched endlessly. Tattered and sullen standards were raised in the monsters' midst. Baleful notes echoed throughout Farthen Dûr as war horns sounded. The entire group of Urgals charged with savage cries.

They dashed against the rows of stakes, covering them with slick blood and limp corpses, as the ranks of the vanguard were crushed against the sharpened spikes. _Imbeciles_,Eragon thought as he watched them charge. A cloud of black arrows flew over the barrier at the crouched defenders. Bard raised his hand and a glow of yellow energy erupted from his palm as he spoke in the ancient language, "Letta orya thorna." The barrage immediately halted in the air. With another word, "Gánga," they turned before heading straight back to the Urgal archers. He felt himself smirk. Now it was time for his servants to show just how unique they were.

Momentarily foiled by the pickets, the Urgal horde milled about with confusion. After a pause, the war cries were raised again as the Urgals surged forward. When they were close enough, Eragon charged forward, sprinting towards their lines. Finny and Bard followed suit. Bard grinned in the anticipation of being on a battlefield again, while Finny's face bore an expression of pure concentration. Saphira took flight, flying high above the battle, breathing fire onto the Urgals.

Eragon was at ease as he cut through the Urgal's line, using every method he could to kill every enemy in his way. He took care to spread tendrils of thought throughout the Urgals ranks, determining which were protected by wards and using varying forms of magic to slaughter groups of Urgals at a time. Finny, with his unnatural strength, gave the Urgals pause. He easily rammed through their numbers, killing every foe in his way. Bard with his magic and swordsmanship was a force of his own. He danced through their ranks, with an ease that bespoke his true skill. Kneeing an Urgal in the stomach, Eragon watched as the large monster fell to the ground. With ease, he crushed his skull beneath his boot. Eragon then turned back to the battalion still over ten yards behind them.

"What are you waiting for?" he challenged. "An invitation?"

Easily side stepping away from a mace swung at his head, with his elbow; he snapped the Urgal's neck in half. The battalion responded in kind, rushing forward. As the two forces collided, a deafening roar burst from the men and dwarves as they rushed into the conflict. Thorn bellowed and leapt toward the fight, diving into a whirlwind of noise and blurred action. With his jaws and talons, he tore through Urgal after Urgal. His teeth were as lethal as any sword, his tail a giant mace. Upon his back, Eragon could see Murtagh smiting any Urgal who came too close. They were as dangerous as Saphira, who flew above the raging battle, breathing fire upon nearly every Urgal who left the tunnel. Many were protected by wards, but those who were not were instantly burned alive.

From the corner of his eye, Eragon saw Orik hewing Urgal heads from their necks with mighty blows of his axe. As Thorn spun, he saw Arya leap past the lifeless body of an opponent. All around, he could see the Varden in high morale, fighting strongly against the Urgals. He even glimpsed the witch Angela, wearing a red cape over outlandish armor enameled black and green. She bore a strange two handed weapon — a long wooden shaft with a blade attached to each end. Close behind her was Solembum in the form of a shaggy-haired boy. He held a small black dagger, sharp teeth bared in a feral snarl. When Eragon saw that they were being pushed back toward Tronjheim, he gritted his teeth. The Urgals army was still large enough to overwhelm the Varden. Durza, where was Durza? He needed to find the shade and dispose of him quickly or Tronjheim would soon be seized by the Urgals. Without his magic controlling the Urgals, they would be no force driving them to attack.

It was then he noticed Murtagh and Thorn were gone. He glanced about the battlefield to find that Arya was also missing, as well as Saphira. Where could the four have gone? The last he had seen of his half-brother, he had been fighting side by side with King Hrothgar. Felling a group of Urgals that surrounded him, he reached out for Saphira. She responded with a tinge of urgency in her voice. _Eragon! Durza has Murtagh under the star sapphire! You need to get there before he is killed._

Anger soon flushed him. _The idiot! What made him believe he could challenge the Shade?_ Easily killing an Urgal in his way, he turned, contacting Finny and Bard as he did so.

_My lord,_ Bard replied.

_I need you and Finny to kill as many Urgals as you can without exhausting yourselves. It will encourage the Varden to see such strength. I must go, to save my idiotic half-brother._

_Yes, my lord. _Running as fast as he could to the great central chamber of Tronjheim, he felt himself grin when he heard howls of agony from behind him, followed by cheers from the Varden. As he emerged into the chamber, he was met with the sight of Murtagh on the floor, unconscious, as Thorn was being roughly held down by a horde of Urgals. But something was wrong. As he glanced up he saw Saphira flying down from the dragon hold, Arya on her back, her hand outstretched with a green nimbus of magic shining from her palm, and shards of ruby crystal falling all around her. She had destroyed the star sapphire!

Muttering a quick spell to ward him from the sharp shards that were falling to the floor, he ran straight for Durza, tossing his swords to the side. When he reached Murtagh he picked up Zar'roc from the ground next to his half-brother, pointing it at Durza. The shade removed his eyes from Saphira and smiled coldly at him. "I knew this day would come. It seems that you've thrown your fate with the wrong lot, Gabranth," he proclaimed, eyes gleaming mockingly. "Or should I say, Eragon?"

With a swift motion of his hand, he pulled his helm off, staring at the shade with cold hatred. "I am overjoyed that I have an excuse to kill a shade such as you, Durza." They circled each other, ignoring the shards of the Isidar Mithrim that seemed to have stopped in their fall.

"The king will be rather displeased that I've killed you, but think of how he'll reward me when I bring back your _brother_." Irritation swelled up inside Eragon as he stared at Durza's smirk. Eragon bent his wrist, aiming Zar'roc at Durza's heart.

"Before I kill you, Durza, there is something that I would like to tell you." He bent his knees. "All those years that you complained I held a higher station than you simply because I am a Dragon Rider, it was not so. Let me put it simply: I'm more valuable than you, at least to Galbatorix."

He watched as maroon eyes narrowed in anger, and without a moment's hesitation, he charged, Zar'roc flashing in his hand. When they were a yard apart, he felt his rage for the shade come to life as the sneering face came closer. He focused all of his pain and anger that Durza had made him feel as a child, into one word:

"_Brisingr!"_

Zar'roc blazed with bloody light, heatless blue flames running along it.

He lunged forward, ignoring Durza's blade as it ran a smooth line across his cheek drawing blood and stabbed the shade straight in the heart.

Durza looked down with shock at the blade protruding from his breast. His mouth was open, but instead of words, and unearthly howl burst from him. His sword toppled from nerveless fingers. He grasped Zar'roc as if to pull it out, but it was lodged firmly within him. Then Durza's skin turned transparent. Under it was neither flesh nor bone, but swirling patterns of darkness. He shrieked even louder as the darkness pulsated, splitting his skin. With one last cry, Durza was rent from head to toe, releasing a darkness which separated into three entities, each proceeding to fly through Tronjheim's walls and out of Farthen Dûr. The shade was dead.

Hearing a thud behind him, he turned to find that Saphira had landed beside Thorn, who was rising from the ground. The Urgals that had restrained him were nowhere to be seen. The shards of the Isidar Mithrim slowly came to a rest on the ground. Arya, who sat atop Saphira's back, seemed to sway dangerously as her feet hit the ground. Eragon caught her before she fell. "A reckless strategy." Eragon admonished, cradling her as he did when he had first met her. "Not only did you destroy the dwarves' precious star, you could have killed yourself."

_Oh, stop scolding her. _Saphira rebuked, turning from her inspection of Thorn. _I am the one who carried her down. Are you going to criticize me as well?_

He sighed, _No. It is just that I am worried for her, as well as for you_, he replied kindly. He placed Arya against the front of Saphira's foreleg. "Rest, it appears that the battle is over." He instructed and to his mild surprise, she assented, her eyes closing. He moved over to where Murtagh lay on the ground, lying on his back. Flipping Murtagh over gently, he studied him for any serious wounds. His back… Blood was pouring from a wound in large amounts, staining the floor.

"Eragon!" He glanced up and to his immense relief, saw Angela running over to him, her face bearing an expression of worry. "What's happened here? Saphira called for me." He gestured to both Murtagh and Arya. He did not feel the least bit offended as Angela roughly pushed him to the side to examine Murtagh.

"You tend to these two, I'll return to the battle." To his bemusement, Angela let out a laugh. "What is it that you laugh at?"

"Battle?" she repeated. "If it pleases you, do offer your strength, but I assure you that there is no more battle. It seems," her gaze flickered up to him before returning to Murtagh, "that when you killed Durza, his magic binding the Urgals were gone and the clans turned on each other. They're escaping through the tunnels, I think."

"I expected as much."

She stood, shaking her head, her thick curls bouncing side to side. "I cannot heal him here; I need him to be brought to a room where I can make my tonics." She turned to leave. "Call Rosalie for me, I shall need her assistance."

He did as she had asked and Murtagh was soon moved into an empty room, with the assistance of Thorn. Arya was placed in an adjacent room. He had never seen the witch so busy, moving from room to room, making haste in order to save the two Riders. Solembum, who had returned to his cat form, was sitting to the side, his tail twitching. _You fought well, Shadeslayer. The Varden is abuzz with your accomplishments. It appears you have won a place in the people's heart._

_Is that so?_

_It is. _He turned his head to stare at Eragon with a piercing gaze. _Listen closely and I will tell you two things. When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the vault of souls._

He felt himself frown. Rarely would a werecat ever offer help and when they did, it was always wise to heed it. Before he could give it more thought, however, Rosalie came bustling down the hallway towards them, Arya's infant dragon close behind her. Eragon pointed to Murtagh's room. "Angela needs you in there. It is taking all her skill to save him, not to mention Arya."

"Yes, my lord." With that, she hurried into the room. The green dragon settled besides Eragon, curling in on himself as he waited. When he felt a mental tendril touch his mind, he was about to throw up barriers when he realized that it was Thorn. _Yes?_

_I want to thank you for saving Murtagh, despite you hating him so._

He bristled at that statement. _I do not hate him._

_Even so, thank you, Eragon. _He turned to stare at the ruby eyes of the red dragon before nodding. They waited for another hour or so and when Angela came bustling out of Arya's room and turned to Eragon.

"She's awake if you'll like to visit her." He nodded and stood from where he sat leaning against the wall of the hallway. With his helm tucked safely underneath his arm, he entered her room, Arya's dragon following closely at his heels. She was sitting up in her bed, rubbing her face tiredly as he entered.

"I'm relieved to find that you aren't dead," said Eragon, taking a seat in the empty wooden chair next to her bed, as her dragon bounded up to the bed, nuzzling her with its snout. He watched as she softly returned the gesture, stroking the green dragon's head, turning to stare at him with bright eyes.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"A few hours," he said. His face suddenly turned grave. "If you remember me saying before; that was reckless. If you had expended any more energy, you could have died."

"Yet I did not," Arya replied, her emerald eyes deep. Eragon grunted in reply. "How fares Murtagh?"

He shrugged. "Angela is still healing him. With her, I'm sure he'll be fine." He reached out and handed her a cup of water from the table beside her bed. She took it after a moment's glance. "You should focus on resting, the Urgals are retreating and the Varden has won."

Her eyes became curious. He explained, "When I killed Durza, the magic that bound the clans together broke and they all turned against each other. In the end, most of them escaped. The rest of the Varden are trying to root them out." He snorted. "Though I don't understand why they would waste time with such efforts. The Urgals aren't likely to attack Farthen Dûr again."

"I see." He felt a faint smile upon his lips. Arya often gave him short replies, but he perceived much from them. The door opened and they both turned to find an anxious soldier in the doorway. "Yes?"

"Ajihad requested that you lend your assistance healing the injured, Shadeslayer," the soldier said, his eyes firmly kept on the floor. Eragon nodded and dismissed him. When the door closed he turned back to Arya.

"You should rest." He stood, his eyes never leaving hers. "Your dragon seems intent on you staying in bed."

He made to leave. "Eragon..."

He turned his head to stare at Arya; she was still sitting up in bed, her piercing gaze focused on him. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For killing Durza." He nodded to her before leaving. He understood. Her revenge had been carried out. He had killed the shade who had murdered her companions. The blood that had been owed was repaid.

The encampment of injured soldiers came into his line of sight. From his position, he could faintly make out the figures of Bard, Finny and Desdemona, bustling about to help where they could. Eragon raised his eyes to the heavens. _What would tomorrow bring?_

**So, tell me what you all think. Oh, and I wanted to put it straight out there that ExA will get to happen in this story, but not for the next twenty or so chapters. And about the time travel story, I've decided that after or near the end of this story, I'll write that one. The concept just really intrigues me. See you again at the next chapter!**


	11. Chapter 10

**Hello again everyone! Chapter ten is up! I'm going to keep this note short so you can all get onto reading! I do not own Eragon. Happy reading and reviewing everyone! R&R!**

The healing chambers within Farthen Dûr were bustling with activity. Eragon was pushed from side to side as he assisted his servants in healing the injured soldiers. He had slept only a few hours since the battle of Farthen Dûr. His body ached with the overuse of magic and the lack of rest and food. Desdemona had nearly gone mad when she saw his state, offering to give him her portion of food. He had adamantly refused.

It was during one of his breaks to eat a meager loaf of bread that a messenger ran up to him. Eragon turned to glance at the man, to see him freeze in fear. _I must look frightening_, Eragon thought. The purple bags under his eyes could not be doing him good, as he had not slept properly for two days. Desdemona turned to the man with a haughty gaze. "What is it?"

"Angela requests the presence of Eragon Shadeslayer," he stammered, "as the dragon Rider Murtagh has awakened."

He nodded with a sigh, finishing the bread. He stood, to his servants' dismay. "But my lord, you need to rest!" exclaimed Finny. Bard fervently nodded in agreement.

"I'll be fine." He handed his helm to Desdemona. "Hold onto it for me, Desdemona. I don't feel like carrying it around." She nodded with worried eyes. He hoped that this would be a simple event. With his lack of sleep, his temperament was dangerously higher than usual.

As he walked down the hallways and tunnels, he tried to stifle a yawn. Eragon did not even realize when he had arrived at Murtagh's room until he had stared for a great deal of time at the wooden maple door. With a tired sigh, he pushed it open. Stepping into the room, he blinked to adjust his eyes to the bright candlelight.

Five people were arranged around Murtagh; three were sitting on the bed, Arya and Rosalie were standing. Angela was knitting comfortably, with what seemed like dried bones, while his mother and Brom spoke to Murtagh, who was propped up on his pillow in bed. They all turned to stare at him once he entered the small room. A look of horror immediately formed on Rosalie's face as she took in the sight of him. "My lord!" she exclaimed, her hands flying to her mouth. "Have you gotten any rest of late?"

"I will be fine." He answered. It did not go unnoticed by him that Arya had a bandage wrapped around her arm. She must have been cut while helping the Varden find the Urgals in the tunnels. He turned his gaze to Angela. "You called for me?"

"I just thought you might like to hear that your brother lives," the witch said, flashing him a smile. "I've heard you've been quite busy, saving lives and healing wounds."

He sighed, feeling his temper flare._ If she called him here just for that_ . . . "Eragon, dear, why don't you go and lie down for a few hours, I'm sure Desdemona and the others can handle the rest from now on," his mother said, rising to her feet to come over and study his tired features. He could see Brom right over her head, staring at him in concern, and it made his gut twist. He did not want to be here, taking part in a tender family meeting.

"Then I'll go now." He turned to leave, but another voice called for him. He felt his body tense and become as rigid as a brick, as he slowly rotated to stare at the young man on the bed, their eyes meeting. "Yes?"

"I wanted to thank you," Murtagh said, sitting straighter on his bed, "for saving me from Durza."

There was a moments silence as everyone glanced at the pair, as if waiting for something tragic to happen. He did not relax, but did not feel the need to ignore such a statement. Finally, he said, "Another debt you owe me."

His mother seemed to burst with happiness as she embraced him, murmuring about how sweet he was. _Was that even sweet?_ He thought as she pulled away after affectionately kissing his cheek. Brom looked as relieved as his half-brother. His family was beyond the need of help. A mother who loved a man who had killed the father of her eldest son, her youngest son who hated her lover, his father, for abandoning him and resented his older brother just for living a simple yet happy life, and the half-brother and lover who had but recently learned of the youngest son's existence. How complicated could a family become?

"If that's all, I will take my leave." He left the room, knowing his mother was right. He needed to rest. He would accomplish nothing if he went around half-dead. There was only one place that he knew no one would be at the moment.

Taking a step through the quiet library, Eragon searched for a dark corner in case someone might walk in on his slumber. When he found a spot hidden behind a rather large bookshelf, he settled against the wall. His eyelids closed of their own accord. His sleep was peaceful, a blank void in time in which no dreams came to him.

At some point after that, Eragon was rudely awakened by someone. Tiredly opening his eyes, he found himself staring up at Arya's petite figure as she flipped through a large volume. He sighed, not moving from where he sat. _Why is it that we always seem to bump into one another? _Not that he minded. "Sleeping in such a position looks uncomfortable," she said, without glancing up from her book.

"Unfortunately, this is the only place that I had thought would be empty, due to the fact that there was a recent battle." Moving to his feet, he tiredly rolled his shoulders, twisting his back from side to side, satisfied when he heard a crack from his bones. "I see now that I was wrong. How is Murtagh?"

"Durza opened an old wound on his back; given to him by his father when he was a child. He has a disability to contend with now," Arya explained, her fingers deftly flipping the pages. He frowned. Arya turned her large green eyes towards him. "Your servants have been looking for you."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Since I last saw you; which was two days ago." She said. He inwardly groaned, he had been tired enough to sleep two entire days. "Ajihad is returning from searching for Urgals. He wishes for you to be there when he returns."

"Where shall he be arriving?" asked Eragon, watching as she closed the book shut, placing it back on the shelf.

"Tronjheim's west gate." With that, she slid between the shadows of the bookshelves like darkness itself. Eragon followed. Eragon had seen Ajihad before he left to hunt the Urgals. At the time he had raged at his daughter, Nasuada, for disobeying him. He had to admit, she was fearless. Refusing to obey her father's wishes to leave with the other women and children, she had instead fought among the Varden's archers.

As Eragon and Arya rounded Tronjheim, a small group became visible in the pool of lantern light before the timber gate. Among them were the three dragons, Orik — the dwarf shifting impatiently on his stout legs — and Murtagh. Even from far away, his half-brother appeared far more tired than before.

Arya had destroyed the Star Sapphire, allowing Eragon to save Murtagh's life and kill the Shade. Even with such an accomplishment, the dwarves were furious with her for destroying their most prized treasure. They refused to move the great gem's fragments; leaving them in a huge circle inside Tronjheim's central chamber. Pedestrians had to carefully traverse the splintered wreckage.

He and Arya came to a stop by their dragons. Saphira immediately went to nudge Eragon with her snout. _You seem in a better state after resting, little one, _said Saphira tenderly.

_Wouldn't anyone? _He replied as he looked out into the empty land that surrounded Tronjheim, extending to Farthen Dûr's base, five miles in each direction. "Where will Ajihad come from?"

Arya pointed at a cluster of lantern stakes around a large tunnel opening a couple of miles away. "He should be here soon."

Eragon waited patiently with the others. Though he answered comments directed at him, he preferred to speak with Saphira in the peace of his mind. Half an hour passed before motion flickered in the distant tunnel. A group of ten men climbed out the ground, then turned and helped up as many dwarves. Ajihad, Eragon saw, raised a hand, and the warriors assembled behind him in two straight lines. At a signal, the formation marched proudly toward Tronjheim.

His eyes focused on the tunnel as they marched. Something did not seem right. Saphira seemed to sense it as well, for as he climbed onto her, she instantly took flight, flying for the tunnel. The assembly had only marched more than five yards, before the opening swarmed with life, and more figures jumped out.

_Those are Urgals! _Exclaimed Saphira.

"Behind you!" Eragon shouted, reaching for his magic as Saphira opened her jaws to let out a jet of crackling fire. He watched as the Urgals began to cut down the warriors with ease; surprise working to their advantage. The moment Saphira touched the ground, Eragon vaulted off, withdrawing his sword to cut down a group of Urgals. Arya and Murtagh — who arrived later — went to tend to Ajihad, where he lay on the ground.

When only one Urgal remained, Eragon grabbed him by the horns and threw him to the ground, his right foot coming to rest on the Urgal's head. Before he could crush it out of anger, the Urgal spoke in its thick, guttural accent. "A message from Galbatorix: this is what happens when you ally yourself with the wrong side, Gabranth."

A flash of surprise surged through him before he pushed his foot down, the sound of bones cracking reaching his ears. He would have to polish his metal boots clean later. In the center of the massacre laid Ajihad, with Arya and Murtagh by his side. When he approached, he felt his lips twitch downwards as he saw that the leader of the Varden was dead. The price for victory was high. Arya, Eragon, Murtagh and their dragons, accompanied Jörmundur and the warriors, bearing Ajihad's body on their shields. The procession back to Tronjheim was a solemn affair, with not a word spoken as each person came to terms with the consequences of Ajihad's death. Afterwards, Orik left to give King Hrothgar the sad tidings.

By the next day, it was apparent the news of Ajihad's death had spread far and wide. As Eragon and Saphira made their way to the nearest kitchen, people stopped and bowed, murmuring "Argetlam" or "Shadeslayer", but they seemed hallowed and saddened. Some dwarves made the motions, though not as often. They, on the whole, did not seem as affected by Ajihad's death. The haunted and somber expressions on the humans' faces did little to unnerve him, but he could share some of their sorrow. In the little time he had been with the Varden, he had come to respect Ajihad for the strong leader that he was.

As he was eating a warm bowl of vegetable stew, a pale-looking youth came to a stop by the side of the table. The boy eyed Saphira like he was afraid she would try to eat him. "What is it?" asked Eragon, not unkindly.

The boy started, flustered, then bowed. "You have been summoned, Argetlam, to speak before the Council of Elders."

_Council of Elders? _Eragon thought. There were such councils within the Varden? "Are you to lead me to them?"

"Yes, I am."

He stood, motioning for the boy to lead the way. As they walked, the boy admired his swords with bright eyes. He looked down shyly when Eragon caught his gaze.

"What are you called?" asked Eragon.

"Jarsha, sir."

"You have performed your duties well, Jarsha, you should be proud." Jarsha beamed and bounced forward. Eragon may rarely give praise, but he never declined the chance to see a child happy.

They reached a convex stone door, which Jarsha pushed open. The room inside was circular, with a sky-blue dome decorated with constellations. A round marble table, inlaid with the crest of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum—an upright hammer ringed by twelve stars—stood in the center of the chamber. Seated there were Jörmundur and two other men, one tall and one broad; a woman with pinched lips, close-set eyes, and elaborately painted cheeks; and a second woman with an immense pile of gray hair above a matronly face, and a dagger hilt peeking out of the vast hills of her bodice.

"You may go," Jörmundur said to Jarsha, who quickly bowed and left.

Ignoring their stares, Eragon seated himself in the middle of the swath of empty chairs, so that the council had to turn in their seats in order to look at him. Saphira hunkered directly behind him; he could feel her hot breath on the top of his head.

Jörmundur got halfway up and made a slight bow, then reseated himself. "Thank you for coming, Eragon. This is Umérth," he indicated the tall man; "Falberd," the broad one, "and Sabrae and Elessari."

"And what is it that you need of me? With Ajihad's funeral, I would've thought you would be too busy to call for me," Eragon said, his face impassive. When dealing with politics and power, it was always best for the other party to be unsure of what you were thinking.

Jörmundur nodded, "We face a crisis that must be dealt with swiftly and effectively. If we don't choose Ajihad's successor, someone else will. Hrothgar has already contacted us to convey his condolences. While he was more than courteous, he is sure to be forming his own plans even as we speak. We must also consider Du Vrangr Gata, the magic users. Most of them are loyal to the Varden, but it is difficult to predict their actions at best of times. They might decide to oppose our authority for their own advantages. That is why we need your assistance, Eragon, to provide the legitimacy required by whoever is to take Ajihad's place."

Falberd heaved himself up, planting his meaty hands on the table. "The five of us have already decided who to support. There is no doubt among us that it is the right person. But," he raised a thick finer, "before we reveal who it is, you must give us your word of honor that whether you agree or disagree with us, nothing of our discussion will leave this room."

He inwardly grinned. They had forgotten about Saphira, she could tell anyone she wished even if he did give them his word. Many overlooked the intelligence of the dragons. "You have my word. Now, who do you want to lead the Varden?"

"Nasuada."

Instantly, he had understood why. She was young and most likely inexperienced, he assumed. A puppet for the council to control. He did not show his distaste. A grab for power. He had seen it happen many times in the Empire, nobles plotting and scheming to bring their titles above others'.

_Even so, Nasuada has steel in her. She proved that when she fought amongst the Varden's numbers, _observed Saphira. _She would be like her father._

_One can only hope that Ajihad was prepared for this to happen._

"I will not question why you have chosen Nasuada, but why must I be told beforehand?" asked Eragon, willing for them to state their true intentions.

"Ajihad's funeral will be held in two days," broke in Umérth. "Directly afterward, we plan to appoint Nasuada as our new leader. We have yet to ask her, but she will surely agree. We want you to be present at the appointing — so no one, not even Hrothgar, will complain about it. We also need you to swear fealty to the Varden during the event. That will give back the confidence Ajihad's death has stolen from the people, and prevent anyone from trying to splinter this organization."

_Fealty._

Saphira quickly spoke to him. _Notice, they do not want you to swear fealty to Nasuada—just the Varden._

_They must think we are fools, _Eragon thought somewhat amused at their situation._ Their grab for power is so obvious; they should just say it outright. But. . . ._

"And why should I?" Eragon asked, watching in satisfaction as the council began to move uneasily in their seats. "There are but two other Riders who can give you their fealty. Arya and Murtagh. Perhaps not Arya, but Murtagh can offer you his services, and yet you choose me. Is there any particular reason for your doing so?"

"Because you've brought the Varden victory, the people will be overjoyed to see their hero devote himself to their cause," Falberd said. _Lies. _It was only because he had slain Durza, if he had not they would have surely chosen Murtagh. And Arya was out of the question, for the only loyalty she truly had lay with her queen.

After a long moment, Eragon nodded. "Very well, I shall attend Nasuada's appointment."

To their amusement, the council seemed to ripple with relief. _They are afraid of us,_ Saphira said. He nodded. _As they should be._ Jörmundur immediately called Jarsha to bring Arya, Murtagh, and Nasuada to the chamber. As they waited, no one spoke, seeming uncomfortable in Eragon's presence. When Jarsha returned, the three entered, Murtagh and Nasuada taking a seat by the table while she stood a distance away. He could understand why, he disliked being close to such people as well.

Falberd immediately explained to them the reason for calling the three of them and Eragon watched as Nasuada and in turn Arya had agreed to Nasuada's appointment. Then condolences were spoken — Something he did not take part in, which earned an angry look from Sabrae, though she quickly turned away when his eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. When they were done, he was glad to leave, only to be stopped as Nasuada called out to him as he rose from his chair.

Eragon reseated himself and waited for the door to close. He turned to the young woman with a raised eyebrow. She wore a gown of the deepest shade of black, deeper even than her skin, broken by the royal purple sash that stretched from her shoulder to her hip. "This is the first we've met, Rider. You haven't greeted me before, have I offended you?"

"No, Nasuada. Circumstances has forced me to keep quiet in the presence of others. You should understand this, since we are both players in this particular game of politics." Knowing that someone could be listening in on them, he delved into his magic and warded the room off from listeners. "Atra nosu waíse vardo fra eld hórnya. There, now we can speak freely without being overheard."

Nasuada's posture softened. "Thank you, Eragon. You don't know what a gift that is." Her words were stronger and more self-assured than before.

He stared at her, curious. "You are well aware of what the council plans, are you not?"

"I am," she said, black eyes gleaming. "But I will not make the task easy for them."

He smirked. She was made of steel, no doubt. _Give her your fealty, Eragon. I trust her more than those wretched fools, _Saphira said. He nodded and stood, drawing his blade as he did so. For a leader to rule over their subjects, they needed a position of power. Offering his fealty to Nasuada would ensure her authority could not be challenged. He saw fear flash in her eyes as he approached; her gaze darting toward the door. She slipped her hand into the folds of her dress and grasped something that he assumed was a dagger. Eragon stopped before her and knelt, his blade flat in his hand.

"Nasuada, Saphira and I have been here but a few days, but in that short amount of time, I came to respect Ajihad — and in turn, you. You fought in Farthen Dûr when others fled, including the two women of the council. I trust you to rule the Varden like your father has done before you and therefore offer you my blade . . . and my fealty as a Rider."

Surprise flitted across Nasuada's face. She gripped his blade—staring at the clear silver metal that held a deadly air about it—than placed the tip on Eragon's head. "I do accept your fealty with honor, Rider, as you accept all responsibilities accompanying the station. Rise as my vassal and take your sword."

He did, letting a smirk travel his lips as he sheathed his sword. "As my liege lord, I can tell you openly that the council had intended for me to swear fealty to the Varden."

Nasuada laughed with genuine delight. "It seems that you are a formidable person, Eragon. It is a pleasant idea to have someone as intellectual and powerful as you as my vassal." She smiled, her teeth flashing. "I may not know you well, but I can see that this game shall turn out very interesting with you as a player."

"I shall serve you honorably," Eragon said, as he bowed to her slightly. He had not intended to swear fealty to anyone, but he trusted Nasuada more than he trusted the Council. And as he stared at the new leader-to-be, he had to agree with her, this would be a most interesting game indeed.

**Opinions everyone? I know the last part seemed rushed but it was too tedious to type out. This chapter doesn't have anything real good but the next one will be where Arya gets mad. Hehe...I have that scene planned out to perfection (hopefully). But please review; I'll like to hear what you all think of the story so far.**


	12. FINNY

**Finny**

**This isn't a chapter. I've decided that for every 100 reviews, I'm going to post some bonus stories of Eragon's servants. This one is about Finny and how he came to meet Eragon. They aren't going to be as long as regular chapters, just some insight of their lives. But I'm halfway done with the next regular chapter and it should be posted tomorrow or the day after. The next 100 reviews I do Bard's story and then Desdemona and Rosalie. :) Have fun reading this short chapter of Finny.**

_Just a little further . . ._ running up the spiraling stone steps, his mixture of orange and blonde hair stood out against the gray walls. When he reached the door, Finny threw it open, bathing himself in the sun's warm rays. The sky was cloudless and the sun high in the sky. Below in the garden, he could see Lady Selena tending to her roses. Desdemona was probably off cleaning somewhere in the castle and the last time he saw Rosalie that morning was in the banquet hall, filling out paperwork. Bard was in the kitchen cooking, Lord Gabranth was in his study, and Saphira was out hunting. He smiled at the thought of his young lord. It had been almost four years ago when they had first met.

_The dungeons of Dras-Leona were damp and dark, with the sounds of mice scratching against the walls. He sat in the corner of a cell that was dimly lit by a candle high on the wall. The small window just barely allowed the sun's rays to reach through to his cell. Finny began to wish, as he stared at the small opening. _Freedom. . .

_He had been orphaned as a child. He never knew where his parents went when they had left him. Finny had lived on the streets and the dark alleys for most of his life, before he was made captive to a group of spellcasters. At the time, he had no idea what wanted from him. After some time, he heard from their conversations that they intended to build the ultimate weapon and that he was being used as a guinea pig to be experimented on. That was how he came to live in the dungeons. He did not know for how long he had been there, surviving on bread and cold stew, perhaps a year, maybe two? It was too long to keep track. The door opened, and he turned in his dirty clothes that could be mistaken for rags. Two people clothed in white robes stood in the doorway. He did not resist as they grabbed him by the wrists, dragging him to the room where they would experiment on him._

_But today was different, he thought, as he lay on the table. Strapped with leather bonds, the familiar sense of fear overwhelmed him as he saw them reach for a vial of dark purple liquid. They were murmuring under their breath, with triumphant smiles stretched on their faces. With a knife, they carved a thin cut into his arm. He watched, his body trembling in fear, as the purple liquid fell onto the cut and was absorbed into his bloodstream. Finny felt a scream tear itself from his throat, as his arms began to burn with a pain that he had never known._

_They repeated the same procedure with his legs and other arm, and the pain increased tenfold. Body writhing in agony, he thrashed his arms and legs about in their straps, surprised when the binding broke free. As he got up from the table, the hands that grappled for him were instantly tossed away. Finny watched as his captors were flung against the wall, their necks snapping._

_Fear. It gripped him like ice. Not able to stand staring at the lifeless bodies, Finny turned and ran for the door, not bothering to open it as his body crashed through the wood. They had changed him, had made him into a monster. As he ran, he ignored the shouts of guards and maids through the keep. Outside, he wanted to be outside again!_

_Turning a corner, he let out a yell as he hit something. Losing his balance, Finny fell to the floor. Regaining his bearings, he glanced up to stare at whatever he had hit. It was a tall man, wrapped in black armor, a black cape tied around the base of his throat and a helm resting on his head, intricate horns curved outwards from each side. Surprise took control of Finny. _I hit him, but he didn't fall. _"Who are you? Why didn't you fall when I bumped into you?" asked Finny._

"_I've heard of you." The tall man ignored his question as he started at Finny. "The boy those spellcasters wanted to turn into a weapon. It seems they have indeed given you the strength for it."_

"_Are you going to take me back?" he asked, feeling small. The armored man shook his head._

"_If you are willing to work for me, I will hire you. You would be paid well."_

_Finny shook his head as he stood. He did not want money. "I don't care about gold. I just want to be outside. I don't want to be locked up forever."_

_The tall man was quiet for a moment, before nodding. "If it's freedom that you wish, then I shall grant it to you if you work for me, -?"_

"_Finny. My name's Finny."_

"_Do you agree then, Finny?"_

"_I do. Please, take me outside."_

Finny sighed contentedly. And ever since, Lord Gabranth had kept to his word. He had granted Finny his freedom; in return Finny protected his mother. And while he stayed at the castle in Urû'baen, Finny had taken up the role as Lord Gabranth's gardener. He was quite awful at it, though his lordship never complained about his gardening skills. Nor did he complain much when, with Finny's strength, sections of the castle were destroyed with regularity. He was a kind lord . . . a lord that he would always serve faithfully.

Suddenly Saphira's large shape appeared in the sky and he grinned. He was free. Turning back towards the door, he ran back down the stairs, laughing and shouting at the top of his lungs. "Saphira's back, everyone!"


	13. Chapter 11

Leaving the room, Eragon sighed. Events were developing not as he had hoped they would. _Fealty. _The word was like a heavy burden to him. Nearly his entire life had been spent living in the Empire. He had desired freedom, but now he was swearing his loyalty to the next leader of the Varden. Even Galbatorix could not make him swear his fealty and yet to give in to these weak council members . . . it made him want to lash out. _It was different with Galbatorix._

Eragon stared at Saphira, not knowing where they were going but letting her lead him. _How so?_

_We respect Nasuada and believe she will make a strong leader, and trust her to make the right decisions. If we did not swear our fealty, this organization would be demoralized knowing that a Rider and dragon will not devote themselves to their cause, _Saphira explained. _And if the Varden should fall or refuse to house us, where would we turn? Galbatorix? No, not after we killed Durza and set the Urgals free from his control. And if he were to find out that you purposely let Arya and Murtagh go free with the last egg . . ._

_Still . . . _Fealty.

_You will grow accustomed to it I think. It was a necessary agreement for survival. Even Murtagh will likely be claimed by another power. Hrothgar will not let this pass and with Murtagh left as an independent Rider, he will seek to gain control of him. We are not alone in this. _She stopped in front of a large door. _Besides, just because you swore fealty does not mean that it binds me as well. If Nasuada's orders place you in danger or I disapprove of them, I will force you from following her orders. Ah, to be forgotten._

He snorted and glanced at the door he had arrived at, realizing that it was the entrance to the library. _What are we doing here? Do not tell me you want to read a book._

_Arya wishes to speak with us. _He frowned, pushing the doors open. The vast room was silent and empty. Allowing Saphira to lead him through the vast bookshelves, he found Arya sitting in an alcove of the room, with her dragon lying on the ground beside her chair. As he took a seat opposite her, Eragon studied the elf. She seemed beyond agitated. Saphira positioned herself between them.

"What have you done?" her hostility was expected, Eragon thought, as he stared at her. His temper was not in the best of states either, after being forced into such a position.

"I did what I had to, is that wrong of me?"

Arya's eyes slanted dangerously, her green eyes flashing. "Wrong? Seven decades I have spent as an ambassador for my people, fifteen of those years I carried Thorn's egg between the Varden and Du Weldenvarden. And throughout that time, I have ensured that the Varden had wise, strong leaders. Your father helped me by forging the agreement of the new Rider—your brother. And Ajihad had wished for you both to remain independent of any group or king. And now I see you siding with the council, willingly or not, to control Nasuada. _What have you done?"_

His temper flared when she mentioned his father, the way she spoke insulted him to the core. "Do not belittle me! You may have seven decades of experience with politics, but I know how to manage, without you berating me like a child."

He covered his shock as she stood, slamming her hands on the table, her eyes a burning emerald inferno. "You fool! You are in many ways but a child!" His eyes flashed and he too, stood, hands slamming down on the table.

"By your standards only! How can we remain independent? It was clear when the last egg hatched for you, an elf! You are already tied down with your loyalties to your Queen! Everyone could see that. Eventually, Hrothgar will claim Murtagh and Thorn. To establish a position of leadership, Nasuada needed power and with a Rider bound to each race, they can acknowledge each other as equals," he retorted, his temper continuing to flare. "And do you think it pleases me to swear fealty? To give into that accursed council's intent? It is a good thing that Nasuada is an honest person, or I would have refused from the very beginning!" By the end of his rant, he found himself shouting and his hands were gripping the edge of the table with such force it was beginning to crack under the strain.

They stood there, both glaring at each other. After a long moment's deliberation, Arya seated herself, running her fingers through her hair. "Your position is not what I would wish, but better than I had hoped." He sighed; suddenly feeling tired and too, seated himself. No one spoke for a while. Then Arya's quiet voice floated over to him, along with the scent of freshly crushed pine needles. "I apologize for my actions earlier . . ."

"I would like to apologize as well; my temper was not in check, for I would not otherwise have spoken so harshly, or outright." It seemed as if everyone was on edge. And they sat there in silence again, not knowing what else to say to one another. "So . . . seven decades . . . you must miss Ellesméra."

"I do."

"Your family must miss you. Elves may be immortal, but seven decades is no small span of time." Eragon said, watching as her face pinched into a frown, as if she had thought of something unpleasant.

"Even so, when I left Ellesméra… I left my family on ill terms." She spoke hesitantly. He frowned, suddenly curious.

"How so?"

"They did not approve of me becoming ambassador for my people." He nodded; it seemed he was not the only Rider with family problems. Arya turned to him, her eyes looking tired. "I shall see you at the funeral, Eragon. May the stars watch over you."

He nodded and watched as she slipped away between the darkness of the shelves, her dragon following silently behind her. _My, what a scene. _Saphira said dramatically as she watched them depart. _I thought the two of you were going to draw swords and destroy the library._

_Not quite. Though you would not stop us, would you?_

_Me? Not at all. It appears Arya has a talent for extracting such intense emotions from you. I like her. _At the last part, Saphira lazily winked at him, though he did not understand the meaning of it. _Women_, he replied, as they left the library together. It felt as if his entire life revolved around females. His mother, Saphira, and now Nasuada, his new liege lord. But where did Arya fit into the equation? His feelings for her were hard to understand. He sighed, feeling suddenly tired, and started towards his chambers.

The next morning as Eragon was polishing one of his two swords, he frowned when in the silver blade gleamed his brother.

He glanced up to see Murtagh, Orik and behind them, Thorn. "Good morning," Eragon greeted them, if rather stiffly. He remembered that Angela had spoken of Murtagh feeling rather ill, from the scar on his back. "Is there something the three of you needed?"

"King Hrothgar requests your presence." Orik replied. Saphira, who was curled up behind him, unfurled, snapping her jaws as she, from his understanding, yawned. Orik bowed to her. "Good morning to you, Saphira." She replied with a friendly growl.

Sheathing his sword, Eragon stood in a fluid motion, nodding for him to lead the way. As they walked, he glanced sideways at Murtagh. His pale face spoke for his condition. It would limit his abilities as a Dragon Rider, Eragon knew. They arrived at two granite doors inscribed with a seven-pointed crown. Seven armored dwarves on each side of the entrance pounded the floor simultaneously with the hafts of their mattocks. After the doors had turned inwards, Orik stepped back to wait for them.

Passing through the granite doors, the four of them entered the throne room. King Hrothgar waited on his black throne, his war-hammer Volund lying across his mail-sheathed legs. Eragon and Murtagh bowed while Saphira and Thorn remained standing behind them, watching the proceedings with their sapphire and ruby eyes.

Hrothgar spoke, "Welcome to my hall, Shadeslayer." He inclined his head towards Eragon, before turning to Murtagh. "And welcome back, Rider." His eyes came to rest on Zar'roc. "It seems that I was proven wrong about Zar'roc. The blade that saved Tronjheim from Durza's grip will always be welcomed here, as long as you bear it."

"Thank you," said Murtagh, rising. Eragon followed suit.

He waited as Hrothgar spoke with Murtagh about the armor that had been given to him for the battle. When the pleasantries had come and gone, the tension in the room seemed to grow as the King finally decided to bring forth the matter at hand. "It has been requested of me that I should support the Council's decision in choosing Nasuada as Ajihad's successor. It has created an uproar the likes of which I have never seen. Most have concluded that Nasuada is indeed fit to lead the Varden. The question I'm most worried about is where you stand on this, Eragon and Murtagh."

"I cannot say for Eragon and Saphira," Murtagh began, his eyes flickering back to Thorn, "but Thorn and I support her and do not oppose her succeeding Ajihad in the position to command the Varden. She is wise and canny beyond her years."

_Affection? _Eragon thought, surprised. Unless his ears deceived him, it seemed as if Murtagh had somewhat of a soft spot for Nasuada. Eragon nodded, pushing the thought out of his mind. "We also do not oppose her ascension. And I hope that you shall do the same, your majesty. What the people need now is unity."

The dwarf king nodded. "And unity they shall get, though the grab for individual power looms like a dagger above our heads." An uncomfortable silence drifted over them. Murtagh, who seemed uneasy, spoke.

"What will be done with the dragon hold? Will a new floor be laid down?" Grief and sorrow, as deep and as wide as the centuries in which the king had lived, emerged in the dwarf's eyes, deepening the lines of his face.

"When Isidar Mithrim was shattered, so was the heart of Tronjheim and in turn, our hearts." Hrothgar reached down to grasp Volund's handle. Saphira touched his mind, her remorse and guilt washing over him. It surprised him somewhat, for in her entire four years of life, she regretted little. _Little one, ask Hrothgar if the dwarves have the ability to reconstruct Isidar Mithrim out of the shards._

After conveying her words, Hrothgar frowned. "The skill we have, but to do so could take months or years, and the end result will only mock the beauty of the Star Rose, rather than restore it. I shall not be done."

Saphira continued, her gaze never wavering from the king. _Tell him if Isidar Mithrim were put together, with not one piece missing, I believe I could make it whole once more._

He did not blink at her request. Eragon knew that dragons' magic had possibilities beyond normal limitations. His transformation was proof of Saphira's power and so he did not question her statement. When Eragon conveyed Saphira's offer, Hrothgar seemed dazed with shock and even Murtagh stood ramrod straight with surprise. "Is it possible? Not even the elves might attempt such a feat!" he exclaimed.

"She is confident of her abilities," said Eragon, "and so am I. If you will have it recovered and repaired, Saphira shall restore the beauty of the Isidar Mithrim and the hearts of your people."

"Then we shall rebuild Isidar Mithrim, even if it takes a hundred years. Every piece shall be assembled and put in place, not a single chip forgotten. You will come then, when we are finished, and heal the Star Rose, and the hearts of mine kin."

"We will come," agreed Eragon, bowing.

Hrothgar smiled. "What joy you bring me, Saphira. I shall await the day that we might see Isidar Mithrim restored and when it comes, dwarves everywhere shall honor your name and sing ballads of you deed for generations. All of our halls shall echo with the jubilation of your race."

After a few more bows, the four departed, leaving the smiling king in their wake. When the doors shut behind them, Murtagh turned to them, his face full of curiosity. "That was a big promise."

"Not by Saphira's standards," Eragon said. He glanced at Murtagh one last time, before turning to leave. "I shall see you at Ajihad's funeral." With that, they took their leave from his presence.

Word of Saphira's promise had indeed traveled throughout Farthen Dûr. As they retired to their room to rest, dwarves in their way bowed and kissed the floor before Saphira. He tried to hide his smirk — even if it was out of the goodness of Saphira's heart; she was flattered by such actions.

When he opened his room, Rosalie was inside, placing a pair of clothes onto his table. "My lord!" she said in surprise as he entered.

"I don't see why you're surprised, seeing as I sleep here." He said, though not unkindly. He gestured to the clothes. "For the funeral?"

"Yes," she said, her familiar smile adorning her face. "I'm sure you will look most handsome in it."

Eragon raised an eyebrow at her compliment but let it pass. "Have you ever been to a funeral before?" he asked, removing his boots as he went to sit on the bed. Rosalie shook her head. He instantly felt like an idiot. How could he forget? She did not have anyone close to her, to attend a funeral for, when he had taken her under his wing. "I'm sure that this won't be the last funeral for the Varden."

"What do you mean?" asked Rosalie.

"Anyone could die." Eragon sighed. He glanced up to see tension and worry rolling off her in waves as she moved about the room. He frowned. "I'm sorry if it makes it harder to guard my mother, but I'm counting on you."

"I know you are, my lord, and I shall never fail you." Her green eyes turned to him. "Eventually, you will have to face Galbatorix, won't you?"

Eragon was a little surprised at the sudden change of topic, but said nothing of it. He nodded. "It cannot be avoided, seeing as I've betrayed him with such intensity. I can only hope that Saphira will escape with her life."

"I see." He frowned, noticing her movements became tenser, but not understanding the meaning of it. When she bid him goodnight, Eragon felt the one word roll around in his head, as if it were a taboo. _Women._

When he and Saphira arrived at the funeral procession the next day, he wore a white shirt with cuffs and above it, a red vest embroidered with gold lining, dark pants, polished black boots, and a black cape that was fastened under his throat with a studded brooch. Instead of carrying both blades, he had only decided to carry one, which was fastened to an ornate belt.

A column was arranged and Ajihad laid in the front on a white marble bier, held by six men in black armor. Close behind his body stood Nasuada, grave and strong in appearance, though tears adorned her face. To her side was Hrothgar in dark robes and beside him, Orik; then Arya and her dragon, his mother and father; to his shock, the Council of Elders, Murtagh and Thorn, and finally a stream of mourners. Whispers and sighs entered the air at Eragon's and Saphira's appearance. He caught sight of his servants within the line of mourners and despite their sorrow for Ajihad, approval seemed to line their faces at his clothing.

Ignoring Jörmundur, who waved to him, Eragon picked the empty space beside Murtagh who was dressed in a similar fashion. Saphira followed in tow, and impressively — with her bulk — slid into the line without disturbing the formation. Thorn turned his head to stare at her and Eragon assumed that they were talking.

The lanterns were shuttered halfway to a cool twilight. Then, deep in Tronjheim, a drum gonged.

Boom.

The precession stepped forward and with every note that struck the air, they brought their feet across the ground. The dwarves who had come to mourn for Ajihad grew even more solemn as they were forced to cross the open chamber where the shards of Isidar Mithrim lay, casting sparkles of golden light onto them. With a final note, they halted in a great catacomb lined with alcoves. The bearers strode to a small room annexed to the main chamber. On a raised platform was a great crypt. On the top was carved in runes;

_May all, Knurlan, Humans, and Elves,_

_Remember_

_This man._

_For he was Noble, Strong, and Wise_

_Gûntera Arûna_

When the mourners were gathered around, Ajihad was lowered into the crypt. Those who had known him personally were allowed to approach. Eragon would not say he knew the leader of the Varden personally, having spoken to him only on several short occasions and none more pleasant than the other. They were seventh in line after Murtagh and Thorn. As they ascended the steps to his body, he was gripped by a sense of sorrow. He had never felt much sorrow for other people in his life, for there was not anyone to feel sorrow for. As he stared at the peaceful and serene expression that shone on Ajihad's face, he came to understand the emotion that clutched him.

_This was how it was to die and be mourned for_, Eragon thought. Death was an eternal sleep and Ajihad was now resting without interruptions. Not able to think of anything to say at first, he eventually settled for something. He said, his voice quiet, "May you rest in peace, Ajihad. And rest well, knowing that Nasuada shall ascend to your command and that the Empire shall be overthrown." Turning, he stepped off the platform with Saphira, allowing Jörmundur to take his place.

Once they had all finished paying their respects, twelve dwarves came, carrying a great marble slab which they slid over the crypt, covering Ajihad. The procession then moved to the amphitheater. Eragon stood and waited, as the spacious arena was filled with voices discussing the funeral that had just concluded.

He sat on the lowest tier of seats, with everyone else of importance. He sat between Arya and Murtagh. He did not bother to speak, as Orik was saying something to his half-brother. He was anxious, for in a few moments he would have to pledge his fealty to Nasuada in front of the entire Varden. He clenched his hands and unclenched them.

"You have my support."

Eragon turned his head to stare at Arya, who was gazing at him with her piercing green eyes. "Do not falter. You have our support." His gaze flickered to the green dragon that sat on the ground, watching the ongoing. He nodded and she returned the gesture with a small jerk of her head. He did not bother listening to Jörmundur as he began to speak, only stepping up to give his word that he supported Nasuada after Murtagh.

When the Council finished pledging themselves to Nasuada, they lined up on either side of the podium, Jörmundur at the head.

"Then by the power of the Council, we give the commands and rights of the leader of the Varden to Nasuada, Ajihad's rightful descendant." He laid a circlet of silver on Nasuada's brow and took her hand, bringing her upright. "I give you our new leader!"

For ten minutes, the Varden and dwarves cheered, thundering their approval. Eragon fought the urge to cover his ears, as the loud level of noise felt as if someone were taking a hammer to a piece of metal. Once their cries subsided, Sabrae motioned for Eragon. "Now is the time to fulfill your promise," she whispered to him.

Silence overcame the amphitheater as he started towards Jörmundur and Nasuada, Saphira beside him. As he walked, he cast a dark glance at the Council, effectively wiping their smiles and smugness from their faces. Behind the council members stood Arya and when she nodded at him in support, that strange confusing feeling overwhelmed him again.

With a brief look at Nasuada, he bowed and then knelt, slipping his blade from its sheath and laying it flat on his palms. Then he lifted it, balancing the sword between Nasuada and Jörmundur; letting it hang between them, for a moment. Eragon darted his eyes to Arya again, and he swung around to face Nasuada. "Out of deep respect and appreciation for the hardships facing you, I, Eragon Shadeslayer, give you my blade and my fealty, Nasuada."

**The lines over Ajihad's crypt, I am so sorry for taking but I couldn't rephrase that. But besides that, what did you think of the chapter? And I'm considering, just a little, that maybe every once and a while the POV should switch from Eragon to either Arya or his parents or Murtagh. In the future, there shall definitely be some POV of Nasuada. As for the next chapter, I'm deciding whether to do it in Arya's POV or Eragon's. If it's not in Arya's then the one after the next chapter will be, I hope. But until then, please review!**


	14. Chapter 12

**Alright, this is the Arya chapter, please tell me how you feel about this so I can fix anything with the upcoming Arya POV chapters. And also, I would like to answer an interesting question brought up in the review. Why did Brom stay in Carvahall? Answer: Thinking that Selena was dead, he thought that the thing he should do to honor her memory was to see that her _only _son was brought up correctly. :) I hope that cleared up some confusion. And as for Eragon and Arya getting together, you'll see. Anyways, R&R!**

No one moved, not a single soul breathed a word as Eragon Shadeslayer knelt before Nasuada, offering his blade and his loyalty. Arya was displeased with his position, she would even go far as to say that she loathed its necessity. He was right though, she thought as her eyes drifted over to the dwarf king, his own expression blank. In a game such as this, they were just mere pawns. Hrothgar would without a doubt bring Murtagh under his influence. She returned her eyes to his kneeling figure, watching as Nasuada touched the tip of his blade to his forehead. His expression, she thought, looked rather resigned.

Arya watched as he stood, stepping back with Saphira. With shouts of approval, the crowd rose to their feet, dwarves hammering their boots to the ground, while human warriors banged their swords against their shields. The noise made her sensitive ears want to bleed.

After a few more speeches by various personages—including a still glowering Falberd—the amphitheater began to slowly empty. She waited until Eragon had stepped past the council, ignoring their heated stares and outright distaste. "You've earned some powerful enemies today."

His expression was grim as he sighed. "All the more reason we should leave Farthen Dûr — and soon." As she took in his appearance, she noticed that he appeared tired beyond his years. It was a feeling Arya would frequently have when around him. The feeling that he never really enjoyed himself; that he found everything in life a bother. She would never speak of such matters to him, though, for she hardly knew anything about him. The lack of understanding made her curious. She knew Murtagh; knew him enough to know what made him uneasy and what did not. But Eragon was a mystery to her. She did not know how he felt when he would see her. He always wore the same expression, a blank stare, as if nothing interested him.

They left the amphitheater together. As soon as they were out of the large open area, Eragon's servants were upon them. "My lord!"

Another mystery. One would expect that none of the four of them were especially talented in any way. But they had proved their worth during the battle of Farthen Dûr. Finny, who seemed to be the youngest, no older than twenty and no younger than sixteen, was always smiling. Or at least, he was when she saw him. He would give the impression of a young man that did not have a care in the world; in contrast his unnatural strength was daunting. Bard, who seemed to be the oldest in appearances, looked like he was in his late twenties. He had proven himself to be an apt spellcaster. Rosalie was a skilled healer, and Arya knew nothing of the small petite woman called Desdemona. Both looked as if they were in their early twenties.

Eragon turned to her, his expression changing very slightly, she noticed. His brows dipped forward and the corners of his lips lifted slightly. He was apologetic for the interruption. Arya nodded and without a word, she turned and left, with her dragon following at her heels. It intrigued her as to why they served Eragon with such loyalty, going so far as to step in harm's way for his sake. Nearly everything about him was shrouded in mystery. Entering her room, she sank down onto her bed, grateful that the day was over. Another funeral . . . and that brought her thoughts to Fäolin and Glenwing. Were they buried properly?

_No. _Now was not the time to grieve over the past; there were more important matters that demanded her attention. She could not ignore them. _Ellesméra . . ._ it has been too long. What would her mother say? Knowing that her only daughter, the only heir to the knotted throne, was a Dragon Rider? Would she accept it? It just made the situation more tenuous. The danger had increased tenfold. From princess to ambassador, and now to Rider.

Her dragon, who sat at the foot of her bed, stood and made his way over to her, nuzzling the side of her leg affectionately. At least she had someone who could share her fate. It was true, she had lost Fäolin and Glenwing, but in return she was given someone who would be her life and mind partner. One who would always understand the depths of her feelings, without her having to explain. She too had to thank Eragon. She owed him much. She would perhaps never be able to repay him for what he had done for her.

Her eyes flickered down at her dragon and at the emerald orbs staring directly back at her. They were the same color as Arya's eyes. She smiled, reaching out to stroke his snout. Eventually he would get too big to fit in her room. He may be only two weeks old, but he was as tall as her waist now. No doubt he would tower over her in a few months' time. "Rest now little one. Tomorrow we shall be preparing for our journey to Ellesméra."

Arya watched as he blinked before curling up on the ground. His jaws opened, a light puff of smoke billowed out.

Early dawn came and she rose with it. Her habits had never changed despite living among humans and dwarves for so long. It appalled her, how some would laze around in bed until late noon before rising and trying to achieve a day's work. She detested many customs, not least how the women wore different clothing than the men. Arya would never bring herself to wear a dress when leggings and a tunic made combat much easier, for some reason something that human women disapproved of.

Her destination that morning was Nasuada's study. It took her half an hour to reach it due to Tronjheim's massive size. When she arrived, instead of two normal two guards at the door, an entire squad of warriors stood before it, alert for the slightest danger. Though the men recognized Arya and her dragon, they barred the way until Nasuada allowed entry.

Nasuada sat behind her desk, still cloaked in black. As Arya seated herself and her dragon beside her, she greeted her. "Good morning, Arya." She nodded in return. Nasuada continued. "I'm sure you've noticed the state of the Varden. We can no longer idle about as a mere resistance movement. We are poor, low on supplies and overextended — along with the fact that few recruits want to join us."

Arya nodded. "When you reach Ellesméra, I would be glad if you could convince your mother to again aid our cause." Nasuada had been told of Arya's position before she had taken the appointment of becoming the new leader of the Varden. "The dwarves cannot support us any longer. With this in mind, I have decided to move the Varden to Surda — a dangerous move, but one I believe it shall be to our advantage. We at last shall be close enough to engage the Empire directly."

Surprise seeped through her at the declaration. To move a force as massive as the Varden would be a difficult task. "King Orrin had agreed to openly support us, with news of Eragon, Murtagh, and yourself."

"I see," said Arya, knowing that despite being an ambassador for her people, she had no power to change Nasuada's mind. "What of your own safety? When Eragon, Murtagh and I leave for Ellesméra to train, who shall protect you then?"

Nasuada favored her with a smile. "Ever since Eragon swore his fealty to me, I've gained many powerful allies. Brom has agreed to stay by my side and assist me in matters involving the Varden. His servants have also agreed to give me their loyalty. I'm sure that you've heard of and seen their abilities."

"I have."

"Then do not worry for me, and hurry to Ellesméra to finish your training, though I should doubt that you and Eragon would need any." Yes, that was true. Arya had studied swordsmanship, magic, and many things besides for decades. Little surprised her lately. She'd had seventy years to perfect her skills and from what she had seen of Eragon, he did not need training any more than she did. "Though traveling with Eragon and Murtagh may be rather unpleasant. They don't seem any closer to overcoming their differences. As requested for by King Hrothgar, I shall be sending Orik along as well."

Orik? She had known the dwarf ever since she arrived in the Varden, but she could not imagine him to willingly travel across Alagaësia to the land of her ancestors, especially atop a dragon. Dwarves had never seen the benefit of intertwining their fate with dragons, and that was why none had ever been a Rider.

The thought of traveling with the two half-brothers made her uneasy. Their differences were sure to make cause for arguments. Nasuada seemed to have mistaken her uneasiness for something different altogether. "If you are worried about Eragon, you should not be. He may seem devoid of emotion, but I've heard that he is very kind at heart."

"No, I'm not worried about Eragon in the least. I . . . trust him. It's the situation of him and Murtagh constantly in company that worries me."

"Ah, sibling rivalry. Or so it appears to be." She glanced down as if deep in thought before returning her gaze to Arya. "You should ready your supplies and meet me at the Northern Gate; I still have yet to speak with Eragon."

"You have?"

A small smile appeared on the dark woman's lips. "I was told by a rather distressed Bard that he doesn't take well to rising early. Apparently, he is an irritable but fairly early riser. He cautioned me to give Eragon time to collect himself."

Arya nodded, taking in the new piece of information. Standing, she bowed swiftly to Nasuada before exiting the study. An irritable riser? The information amused her to no end. She saw Eragon as a strong, hardened warrior, but the thought of him waking up disgruntled made her lips twitch. He was, on all accounts, an intriguing person. The kitchen was the next stop, as her dragon was hungry. When she neared it, the sight of Bard hunched over with laughter greeted her.

"My god!" he roared, pounding his fist against his knee. "That was amazing! I thought they were going to tear her to pieces!" He had not taken notice of her as she stopped before him, her eyebrows raised.

"Tear who to pieces?" it was amazing how fast his laughter subsided and how ramrod straight he stood, his arms by his side, his chin raised high as if saluting a king or queen.

The next thing he did surprised her. He twisted his right hand and placed it above his sternum, in a gesture of respect. "Miss Arya." She was so shocked about his knowledge of her people's etiquette that it took a moment for her to form a reply.

"Bard." Arya inclined her head. Then curiosity overwhelmed her. "Where did you learn that gesture?"

He grinned, looking sheepish. "Lord Eragon taught it to us when he arrived here. Though there had yet to be a circumstance in which to use it." She nodded, and her curiosity for the Rider heightened considerably.

Arya turned back to the subject at hand. "Who was about to be torn to pieces?"

A chuckle escaped his lips as he explained to her. "A sorceress came looking for Lord Eragon. I think her name was Trianna, but I can't say for sure. It was outright wooing if you ask me. It was rather alarming when Desdemona and Rosalie caught sight of her." He chuckled again, his blue eyes sparkling with unsuppressed merriment. "They looked ready to roast her on a spit."

Arya nodded feeling her own lips curve up into a smile. An interesting story indeed. She blinked when her dragon snapped impatiently. "It was pleasant to speak with you, thank you, Bard."

He nodded, inclining his head. "May the stars watch over you."

With that she left for the kitchen. The cook there had obediently served up the meat for her dragon to eat. Arya did not partake of meat, nor did she like the smell of it. It was natural for her dragon to eat meat, though, as all dragons were predatory animals. It was something she would need to become accustomed to. After he had eaten what appeared to be an entire deer, she left to pack.

Arya took time when packing; she did not rush like most people would as in the end, they would always forget something. It would take much longer since she had to bring some food along for the journey. Despite her pack's heaviness, it made little difference due to her elven strength. Who would she be riding with, Eragon or Murtagh? The thought occupied her mind as she walked, only to blink out of her reverie when someone called out to her. Turning, her green eyes came to rest on Brom and Selena.

"Is something amiss?" she asked them when they had reached her.

"Nay," said Brom with a shake of his head. "I wanted to speak, before you met with the others at the gate." He handed her a scroll that was sealed shut with red wax. "Give this to the Cripple who is Whole for me, it explains at length Murtagh's training. I am afraid that I am unable to travel with you, since the Varden have more use of me here. An old man like me would only slow you down and time is of the essence."

Arya nodded sticking the scroll into her pack, tucked safely under her food and bed spread. Selena, who she had rarely spoken to, stepped forward, her brown eyes bright. "I do not know you well, Arya, but I have a favor to ask of you."

Her brows slanted into a frown. A favor? "If it is in my power, then I shall lend you my aid."

Relief flooded her expression and she nodded. "Can you watch out for Eragon and Murtagh for me?" said Selena. "I know you think that Eragon can handle himself, but I don't want him alone. I am reluctant to see him travel to Ellesméra. Despite having Saphira, I can't help but feel that when he reaches your forest, it would make that loneliness of his much more stark." She pressed on before Arya could open her mouth to respond. "He doesn't open up like Murtagh does. Even as a child he did not have friends. So please, extend your hand to him in friendship. I feel that you will come to understand him."

She hesitated. But a part of her mind understood what Selena was asking. Eragon did not seem close to anyone at all besides Saphira, his mother and maybe his servants. And to travel to Ellesméra, it would isolate him. After a few moments of deliberation, she nodded. "I shall do what I can."

A breath of relief escaped her lips. "Thank you and I know this seems much, but if possible, lend him your strength." Her eyes became downcast. "Growing up without a father has made Eragon a person who doesn't ask for help easily. Whether he doesn't know how to rely on others, or if he has no desire to, he doesn't give you the chance to worry over him." A soft smile graced her lips, as her brown eyes, so much like Eragon's, stared into Arya's emerald ones. "And yet, he has a way of aiding others without realizing it."

That was right, Arya thought. He had helped her from the beginning. He had rescued her from Durza, had given her the last remaining egg. And without realizing it, she found herself faintly smiling. "I understand."

"Thank you, Arya," said Brom from behind Selena, though his eyes seemed a little drawn down as he spoke. She nodded and collecting herself, suggested that they go to the Northern Gates of Tronjheim. When they had arrived, a small group was already there. It consisted of Eragon and his servants, Jörmundur, Nasuada, Murtagh, Orik, Saphira and Thorn. Her dragon, who had been following her, ambled up to Saphira excitedly, his tail swaying from side to side, before licking the sapphire dragon's snout.

Arya's eyes flickered to Murtagh who wore a helmet and etched into it were the stars and hammers of King Hrothgar's clan, the Ingeitum. Now every race had a claim on a Rider. Selena rushed forward and embraced Murtagh and Eragon both, causing their heads to bang into one another. Then releasing them, she embraced each individually, kissing them on their brows and cheeks, saying, "Have a safe journey. I love you."

Brom stepped up next and the tension around the four seemed to have worsened from his actions. He said his good-bye to Murtagh, before slowly turning to Eragon. Arya could tell how his face hardened and his brows slanted dangerously. It was a wonder that looks could not kill, for Eragon was glaring at his father so darkly; it would spark fear into even an Urgal.

"Have a safe journey, Eragon." He reached out a hand hesitantly and for a long moment they all thought that he would deny it, until Eragon lifted his arm and gripped Brom's forearm, him returning the gesture. This nearly had Selena crying with happiness.

"We should set off, Aiedail has set." Eragon nodded and released Brom's arm before gesturing to her pack. She handed it to him and watched as he tied it to one the saddlebags on Saphira.

"Take care of my mother and Nasuada for me while I'm away," Eragon instructed his servants. They nodded and bowed, saying their goodbyes to their lord for what seemed like the hundredth time by Eragon's expression. He turned to her, and an intense curiosity and familiar strange feeling welled up in her as she stared into his deep brown eyes. "Climb onto Saphira first, I'll sit behind you."

Arya nodded and with the elegance and speed that she was born with, jumped from Saphira's foreleg to her shoulder, sliding her legs into the straps as Eragon instructed from where he stood on the ground. With as much grace, Eragon followed suit, settling himself behind her. His strange smell drifted to her nose, like a fresh day mixed with the scent of something musky. His arms settled on her waist. The small space between them did not alarm her, but it only increased the strange feeling she felt.

Her eyes turned to Thorn, with Orik and Murtagh. The dwarf sat in front like her, while Murtagh sat behind. She could see the apprehension in the dwarf's face at the thought of flying. With a surge of her powerful wings, Saphira kicked off from the ground, angling towards the tunnel with Arya's dragon following and Thorn bringing up the rear.

That strange feeling gripped her again as Eragon's pressure on her waist increased while Saphira gained elevation. _What was this feeling?_

**_So, _****how was the chapter? Please review. But anyways, I shall see you in the next chapter which I hope shall be posted soon enough.**

**Chapter update: 08/16/2014**


	15. Chapter 13

**Alright another chapter! And can you believe how excited I am? They are about to enter Ellesméra! Finally! In any case, R&R!**

Traveling was made easy atop dragon back, though it was unusual, as Eragon had to sit behind Arya for the entire journey. He did not mind, though — her presence was soothing to his mind. She spoke little and preferred to sit in silence, perhaps speaking to her dragon that flew below them. Eragon would have liked to travel all the way to Ellesméra, but for some unfathomable reason, Orik insisted that they visit the dwarf city, Tarnag. He felt apprehension settle over him as he thought of the visit. Eragon was young, but he was far from lacking intelligence. The dwarves would not take well to seeing Murtagh as one of their kind and when looking at him, they would only see him as an enemy, for what the Forsworn had done to the dwarves.

He felt rather sorry for Hrothgar as they approached the city. It was a bad choice of options for him to begin with. To choose between the son of a Forsworn, or a Rider who had served Galbatorix for four years. With Nasuada having claimed Eragon, he was left with Murtagh. Without warning, he felt Saphira lean forward towards the ground, folding her wings to her side. Fully bringing his arms around Arya as if to hug her from behind, he tightened his grip as the wind blew past his ears in what sounded like a scream and Arya's hair whipped him in the face. From anyone's point of view, it looked as if they were going to crash into the ground, but at the last moment, Saphira flared out her wings on either side of her and brought them slowly to the ground.

_My, that was rather exciting, was it not? _Saphira craned her neck to stare at them with one large sapphire eye, the corners of her mouth lifted in a grin. He rolled his eyes.

"A warning would have been nice, wouldn't it?" he said, watching as Thorn landed in front of them and Arya's dragon by their side.

"Barzûl!" Orik grumbled from where he sat. "Another dive the likes of that and I'll surely lose my life from fright, instead of dying honorably on a battle field."

_Honestly, it was not that bad, _remarked Saphira, turning her head to take in the sight of seven Feldnûost running towards them with dwarves atop their backs, sitting in what seemed to be bejeweled saddles. The lead dwarf, naming himself Thorv, spoke to Orik and Arya, and they replied in turn. He then instructed his companions to form up around them and without further prompting, led them through the tall city gates of Tarnag.

Unlike the other dwarven cities Eragon had visited, Tarnag was not built with the height of other races in consideration. Hanging throughout the city were the dwarves' flameless lanterns. Jumping down from Saphira's saddle, Eragon landed steadily on the ground and the other three decided to do the same, Orik seeming highly relieved.

From there, Thorv led them through the streets of Tarnag, which were crowded with various dwarves, all of whom stared at them. Though they initially held respect in their eyes, the respect turned instantly into outrage at the sight of Murtagh's helm etched with the hammers and stars of the Ingeitum. He bent his head closer to Arya, to whisper into her ear, "It appears Hrothgar's adoption may bring more trouble than he had intended."

"It may already have done so." Arya's green eyes swept the crowd as they approached a great hall. As they neared the hall, a group of armed dwarves streamed out from between the houses and formed a thick line, blocking the street. Eragon felt his face harden as he stepped forward, his hand hovering over his blade. Long purple veils covered their faces and draped over their mails.

Their dwarven guards mirrored Eragon, reining in their Feldnûost, their faces hard. He glanced to the side as Orik came to stand next to him, a hand on his axe. _Are they refusing us passage?_

_It would seem so,_ Saphira replied. He saw out of the corner of his eye how she wrapped her tail protectively around Arya's dragon, still too small to defend itself.

A veiled dwarf raised a fist, crying out in their rough language. It was enough to have Thorv reply with a sharp retort. As they argued, Eragon noticed a gleam of respect Thorv held for the veiled dwarf.

Eragon frowned when the dwarf pointed his finger at Eragon then at Murtagh in accusation. His eyes narrowed. T_his will not be resolved peacefully,_ he thought as the scene unfolded before him. The dwarf stared long and hard at the two of them before pulling out an iron-wrought ring, wrapping three hairs around it that he had plucked from his beard and throwing it in the street, spitting at it. Then they broke ranks; a dwarf at the end ran forward, his dagger flashing with a speed Eragon did not realize that dwarves could possess. Pulling out one of his swords, their blades met, sparks flying. Reaching out with his free hand, he gripped the attacker by his beard and tossed him into three other similarly charging dwarves.

He glanced back at Murtagh who was surrounded by the seven guards, frustration etched on his face with his inability to lend his assistance. Arya sidled up next to him, her narrow blade drawn, her face intent, until they stood side by side. "We need to clear a way," she whispered, gesturing towards the hall with a motion of her head.

He nodded. "I'll charge and split their ranks and you can—"

He stopped when her green eyes flashed darkly. "_We'll _both charge." He stared at her for a few moments, before giving in with a nod. With that, they ran forward, their blades flashing in the light. As they planned, the dwarves broke ranks, fleeing into side streets, and Eragon saw that Murtagh and the others were hurrying through the barbican. He felt Arya grab his upper arm and drag him with her after their party.

They appeared in a wide courtyard with three banquet tables, decorated with lanterns and banners. Before it stood a group of dwarves, who were hurriedly conversing with Orik, his hand outstretched and the ring upon his palm. Sheathing his sword, Eragon turned to Arya. "I could've followed without your help."

Her green eyes met his and that strange feeling came to him again. "Is it wrong for me to want to help you?"

And that was how Arya sealed his feelings for her, even though he did not know it at the time. He stared at her long and hard, and she stared back, unblinking. _This warmth . . ._it was something he had not felt in a long time. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped as a gray-bearded dwarf came up to them. "I apologize for the unexpected hostility, Eragon Shadeslayer. I am Ûndin, son of Derûnd and clan chief of Dûrgrimst Ragni Hefthyn."

Another dwarf stepped forward, his frame that of a warrior. "And I am Gannel, son of Orm Blood-ax, and clan chief of Dûrgrimst Quan." He did not miss the flicker of Gannel's black eyes towards Arya in distaste.

"Thank you for having us," said Eragon. The clan chiefs greeted Arya in turn, but when they did not greet Saphira, he felt his eyes narrow. There was a reason for why the Forsworn had slain any dwarf in sight.

Ûndin turned back to Eragon, "I've prepared a feast in honor of the three of you. Please, allow my servants to guide you to your quarters and refresh yourself, so that we can begin."

He wanted to deny it outright, for he did not like eating with others and discussing worthless pleasantries. But it would seem rather rude for a guest to deny the request of host. And so a few hours later he found himself seated next to Arya and across from Murtagh at one of the long banquet tables. He could not contain his grim expression as he glanced back towards the direction of the entrance of the hall where extra guards stood. This was why assassinations happened so easily. Only fools would eat in the open when it was obvious at how the purple-veiled dwarves wanted to kill them.

When servants began piling food onto their plates, Eragon politely declined a large slice of Nagra. "I do not partake of meat," Eragon explained as he took a bite of a pear, answering Arya's questioning stare. "It is a lesson that I learned long ago."

He watched as the other diners ate the delectably spiced meat with great enthusiasm. To kill another for the purpose of fulfilling hunger, it sickened him. "Have you ever been here?" Eragon asked Arya, as Murtagh began talking with Ûndin and Orik with interest.

She nodded, spearing a piece of lettuce with her fork. "I have, though Tarnag has been inhabited only since less than two decades ago now, since when your father killed Morzan. Easily visible from the air and with no natural defenses, it was an easy target for any Forsworn."

"I see," Eragon murmured. Everyone saw his father as a hero. He sighed. If only he had come for Eragon . . . _No, _wishful thinking was useless. The past was the past, no matter how hard one willed it not to be. Wishes do not come true, Eragon thought, only miracles. But even miracles rarely occurred, and certainly not if one sat back and waited for one to occur. "Do you believe in miracles?"

His sudden question caught her off guard. She stared at him, bewildered. "Miracles?" he nodded, watching as her lips pursed in thought. And finally she answered him. "I believe in matters that can be proven with evidence."

He frowned, bringing his eyes to gaze up at the stars. "But then they wouldn't be called miracles." He blinked as he stared at the stars. Were they_ moving?_ Bringing his eyes to the food in front of him, it felt as if the entire world were swaying. _What was happening to him_? He felt himself slump over in his seat, as a strange force pulled him out from his body.

_Emptiness. . ._

_He was standing in a white void, devoid of anything but a crypt, closed and bound shut with metal chains. Eragon stared at it. Something evil was inside, wanting to break free and take control, of that he could tell. Suddenly, one of the many chains that bound the crypt withdrew into the ground._

_It cannot be! The chain reappeared an instant later, wrapping itself around his right leg, holding him in place._

_The enchantment was breaking . . . his dream was going to become his nightmare. . ._

Eragon blinked, his eyes focusing on his plate filled with fruits and vegetables. All around, no one seemed to be aware of what had occurred, to his relief. Save for the elf that sat beside him. He frowned when a goblet was pushed under his nose and turned to stare at Arya. Without asking what it was, he took it from her hands and drank, aware of how dry his throat was. "Are you feeling well?"

"I am weary, though a good night's sleep will put my mind at ease," Eragon replied. Something shifted behind her green eyes but she laid the matter to rest. Saphira, who sat at the end of the table, turned to stare at him, worry emanating from her. He shook it off.

The next day he found himself wandering aimlessly through the temple, Celbedeil, studying the odd arts. Everything, he observed, was made with a great deal of gold or similarly precious materials. The dwarves spent more money on their beliefs than on their people, Eragon mused, staring at one particular painting.

It was of an elf with angled eyes stared down a hooked nose and narrow chin, his shoulders high and tensed. _Eragon. _He held a white dragon egg in his hands. Eragon reached out to touch the image. "You and I are quite different," he whispered.

He heard a door open and close and turned to see Arya approaching from the far end of the gallery. She scanned the wall with a blank expression, though he could tell that she found the temple rather distasteful. Arya inclined her head. "Eragon."

"Arya," said Eragon. "How does the day find you? Well, I hope."

"It does indeed," her gaze flickered to the image he stood before. "Though I never thought you would take interest in the dwarves' mythology."

He shook his head. "I've long thrown away the belief that gods exist, whether they be humans' or dwarves'. I've simply nothing better to do and found my time spent inspecting the dwarf's temple."

"And what is it that you think of them?"

"Selfish."

His answer surprised her. Eragon elaborated, "They built all of this as a monument for their wishful thinking. Instead, they could have used the money to help the poor and the needy, maybe offer assistance to the Varden." He scoffed. "I do not see the good of visiting a temple layered in gold and precious stones and praying for a good season, or for a wish to come true."

"You have given the matter a great deal of thought." Arya observed. He shrugged, a slight rise of his shoulders.

"I had plenty of time to prefect such opinions." He let his eyes roam around the hall. "Wishful thinking achieves nothing. And that is where I find the fault in their reasoning. To pray for assistance, to receive no answer and continue to do so…is worthless."

His cold answer seemed to have caught Arya off guard. "You seemed to believe in miracles last night when you asked me, did you not?"

He turned to gaze at her green orbs with a small smile. "Miracles may happen, but not if we wait around for gods or some divine entity to do it. Miracles are things that we make for ourselves, here and now." He sighed. "But no one seems to realize that, always putting their faith before their reasoning."

Arya remained silent beside him as if deep in thought. "You may be human originally, but your thinking is much akin to an elf."

"Is that so?" She nodded. He raised a brow, but did not question her any further. "Enough of that, though. Is there something you needed to speak to me about?"

"Orik and Ûndin believe it best that we leave Tarnag. Az Sweldn rak Anhûin has inflamed the citizens against your brother." She looked rather tired by the sudden turn of events. "The crowds may attack us with true intent, unlike the other day, when they only hoped to intimidate us. We will need to leave soon, so as not to further turn the citizens against us."

Eragon nodded, returning to his room to gather his things. When he had returned to the courtyard, the dragons were already waiting for them along, with Murtagh and Orik. _The citizens want to draw blades._

_Then we shall leave all the faster. The troubles Hrothgar has brought us,_ Eragon replied with a sigh, watching as Arya's dragon stood by Saphira in what seemed to be alertness. Arya soon joined them, handing her pack to him without a word, allowing him to tie it to Saphira's saddle. Eragon studied the darkening sky.

Eragon began to rub his temples upon hearing the agitated tones of Tarnag's citizens, as if a large headache were bothering him. "I was prepared for Hrothgar claiming Murtagh, but I did not believe that he would do it in such a way that would anger the dwarves to such an extent."

"If any, the fault lies within Hrothgar for presenting such an offer in the first place."

He nodded. Silence reigned for several minutes. Finally, Eragon asked, "Are you ready to return to Du Weldenvarden?"

She gazed at him with questioning eyes, so he continued. "Like I said before, seventy years is a long time. It might make you feel uneasy around your own people. Neither Humans nor dwarves share any particular similarity in culture to elves."

Her gaze hardened and she stared at him for a long time, before lowering her eyes to the ground. "I do not know the answer myself. But maybe when we reach the outpost of Ceris, I shall be able to find it."

He nodded. "I'm sure you will."

They turned to find Ûndin approaching them. "I'm sorry for the hostility brought upon you. As guests, you deserve no such troubles." He spoke to the three of them, as they gathered about him. "This is where we shall part; I hope your journey to Du Weldenvarden shall be swift. I am only shamed by how your stay was darkened by Az Sweldn rak Anhûin."

Murtagh bowed murmuring his thanks and Eragon followed suit. He did not have to say a word to Arya, as she bounded up Saphira's side and onto the saddle. Eragon settled himself behind her, his hands coming to rest on her waist. Warmth seeped through his body as the scent of crushed pine needles reached his nose, refreshing his mind and sharpening his senses.

Saphira took flight, flying above Tarnag and the outraged citizens that flooded the streets at the sight of the three dragons leaving their city. She flew easily over the gates and veered towards the direction of Du Weldenvarden, along the Az Ragni. Now that they had dealt with the dwarves, Eragon wondered how the elves would take to the son of Morzan and Galbatorix's Rider of four years entering their forests. It was a daunting thought.

**Alright so here comes a serious question. Did Arya truly love Fäolin? Were they even mates? I know this may sound stupid but think hard on this, readers. In Brisingr she spoke of Fäolin as a companion amongst the short lived races and that they had traveled together as close friends. BUT she didn't say that she necessarily loved him. Please tell me what you think for this affects the story quite a bit. Personally I don't think she loved him, I think she just thought of him as a close friend, not as a lover or a mate.**


	16. Chapter 14

**Thank you for all the review everyone, it sure helped clear some of my thoughts. I would like to thank you, Buddy, for reviewing. Your reviews always bring questions to my mind and it helps me write the story better. And your answer to my Arya and Fäolin question really helped me out there. But thank you, readers, for your replies. It was much appreciated. And the poll about Eragon and Arya getting together is now closed. But besides that here's another chapter! I hope you all like it! I'm so excited! I finally get to reveal some of my plot!**

It did not take long for them to reach the fringe of Du Weldenvarden; it had been but two days since they left Tarnag. They had flown above the Az Ragni River which soon merged with the Edda. With every passing hour, Arya appeared tenser, Eragon noticing it with his arms wrapped around her petite form. As they made camp on the first night, he could see how tense she was, the outlines of her body rigid, straining her otherwise graceful movements. Tomorrow they would reach Du Weldenvarden and the elves that were stationed at the outpost of Ceris. Eragon did not know why she worried so much, when it was he who should be worrying. They may not know that he was Gabranth, but when he voiced that he was, they would surely hold a knife to his throat.

That was why he was wary, for one could never guess what an elf was thinking. Eragon turned his head, gazing at Arya's back as she kept watch over their camp, Murtagh and Orik sparring with one another. When asked to spar, Eragon had politely declined, fearing that his temper would take the better of him and he would end up breaking Murtagh's bones. Grabbing an apple from his pack, he stood, walking over to Arya. She did not glance up when he sat down next to her, only continued to look at the dark mass in the night sky, Du Weldenvarden. He held the apple out to her. "Eat. And then go rest, I'll keep watch."

The apple was offered to her for a full ten minutes before she reached out and grasped it with cool fingers that brushed his hand. The sound of crunching met his ears. They sat there for a while, before she finally spoke. "I'm afraid."

To say that he was surprised was an understatement. He did not know much of Arya, but he did know that she was a strong warrior and for her to be afraid gave him pause. He turned his eyes to gaze at her, and her emerald eyes stared back, bright in the darkness. "I'm afraid," she repeated, "of what might happen once I step into Du Weldenvarden. What my family might say when they see me, alive and a Dragon Rider. This uncertainty makes the fear all the more real."

_Comfort her. _He blinked, irritated that Saphira was eavesdropping. Begrudgingly, he took her advice. He was not accustomed to comforting others. He had never tried to make anyone happy besides his mother and Saphira. On some occasions he did so with his servants, but they were happy if he gave one small compliment. Arya was different. He did not know how, but he wanted to help her forget her fear. Eragon's hand reached out and was about to grasp hers but he settled for gripping her shoulder in a comforting way. "If it's of any comfort, to be able to admit that you are afraid makes you a strong person, Arya. I have no doubt in my mind that you can — that you _will _face your past and your people without hesitation."

He held his hand there for a full minute before withdrawing it. She had yet to speak, so instead, he decided to tell her what was on his mind. "I am also afraid." A breath escaped from his lips as he spoke. "That day in Tarnag had me thinking. If the dwarves reacted with that much hostility at our presence what will the elves do? Saving you and Murtagh and killing Durza does not wash away the blood that has stained my hands. It was easy to fight off the dwarves, but elves, maybe one or two but not a crowd. I'll be considered an enemy in your lands."

Her hand moved so fast, he did not realize that she had gripped his wrist until he glanced down to see the outline of it. "No, they won't, elves may be cautious but we are willing to forgive. Given enough time."

"And if they do not?"

Her grip on his wrist tightened. "Then I shall plead for your cause, as will Murtagh and maybe even Orik. Do not worry; you are not alone, Eragon."

His brown eyes widened as he stared at her. How was it that she knew how to make him feel welcomed? Cared for even? He blinked, his dry eyes irritating him, as emotions welled up within him. Finding his voice, he felt angered that it was heavy as he said, "You are not alone either, Arya."

He could see her faint smile in the dark as her hand withdrew. Composing himself, he spoke again, his voice normal. "You should go to rest. I'll keep watch, thought I doubt anything would attack us with Thorn and Saphira nearby. Even your own dragon would give many predators pause." The corners of his mouth turn up at the last sentence.

She rose with a fluid motion and sauntered back to camp, leaving Eragon to sit and watch with his bow and quiver in his lap. Thinking back to the previous night, as they packed up the next morning, he had not needed to use it. They flew for a short while, only to land when Arya motioned for the dragons to do so. She had instructed for them to walk and for the dragons to fly overhead. They did, traveling down a narrow trail through tangled dogwood and rosebushes, which filled the air with their warm scent.

Despite the fact that he did not know how the elves would react, a small feeling of excitement welled up within him. He could feel Saphira's excitement as well. At last, they came upon a small meadow set between the river and forest. "Stop here," Arya said in a low voice. She walked forward until she stood in the center of the meadow, then cried, "Come forth, my brethren, for you have nothing to fear. 'Tis I, Arya of Ellesméra. My companions are friends and allies, they mean us no harm." He felt his body tense as the ancient language flowed from the leaves of the trees before Arya replied, "I do."

With a rustle, two elves appeared at the edge of the forest while two others dropped out from the trees. It was hard not to think of elves as wild, with their intense love of nature. In contrast, they were the most elegant and graceful of all the races. Those on the ground bore long spears, while the others held bows. All were garbed in moss colored tunics and flowing robes. One had tresses as dark as Arya's. The other three had hair the color of starlight.

They embraced Arya, laughing in clear voices, before joining hands to dance around her in a circle, like children, singing merrily as they spun through the grass. Murtagh seemed to be enjoying the music of their laughter; Eragon on the other hand was taut as a bowstring. They had yet to take notice of them, standing amongst their midst as they focused their attentions on Arya. Another reason to have a large distaste for being in Du Weldenvarden was that the elves were a capricious race; one moment they could be outraged, the next they would give you blessings. He was going to have to tread lightly now in order to not offend anyone.

Then Saphira and the others drifted over the river to settle beside Eragon and Murtagh. At their approach, the elves cried out in alarm and aimed their weapons toward her. It happened all too fast, Arya's words seeming to grow deaf on their ears as they took in the sight of Eragon and Saphira, the sapphire dragon beside him, coming to the conclusion of his identity in that moment. The sound of a familiar twang echoed through the air, followed by the hissing as something flew towards him.

Surprise flooded him as the arrow bored past his wards. But then, why should he be surprised? This was a magical race that he was facing, for elves to come up with a spell that could overcome his wards was hardly a surprise. He grunted as the sharp metal pierced the skin in the center of his chest, stumbling at the force with which it flew at him. His foot caught something and the world whirled about him. He went from gazing at Arya and the elves, to staring bewildered into the sky, before closing his eyes to the green of the grass.

_Eragon blinked, coming back to himself. He was standing in the familiar white void; facing the same crypt that was shut tight, with chains and bound by enchantments. The chain on his right leg had not given way yet as he stood there. Another chain slid free of its bindings and reappeared from the white ground below him. It reached up as if a living creature and wrapped itself around his left leg._

"_Your time is running out, Eragon."_

He blinked, gazing up the ceiling of a wooden hut. _Where am I? _He thought sluggishly. The last thing he remembered was being hit by an arrow and falling, hitting the grass of the meadow. But this was not the meadow. The arrow was gone and the center of his chest was intact, as if it had never had an arrow sticking out of it in the first place. His tunic was missing. Eragon sat up, rubbing his chest as it ached. Lying next to him was a new tunic, the color of moss, one like those the elves wore. Next to it was a steaming bowl of mushroom soup. The bowl was made from an unusually dense wood, Eragon noticed, as he held it between his hands. The shape of a dragon was carved into its side.

Picking up the spoon next to it, he gratefully sipped the hot soup. It was delicious, warm and sweet. When he finished, Eragon stood, bringing the tunic over his head. The fabric was fine, even more so than the dwarves'. It felt silky and smooth against his skin as he walked out of the hut to find everyone gathered around a fire, talking quietly. At the sight of him, they all stopped to watch his progress. It was already night, the dim light of the fire giving light to the small clearing. _How are you feeling?_

_Like someone walked on my chest, _Eragon replied, as he took a seat next to Saphira. The large sapphire dragon nudged him with her snout. He glanced at the elves, who looked pale and ashamed of themselves. _Have you been giving them a hard time?_

She snorted. _If you mean to ask if I have forgiven them, I have not. When you forgive them, so shall I. _He nodded. Arya was watching him the entire time as he spoke with Saphira. "How are you feeling?"

"Well enough," was his stiff reply. _She was worried. _He glanced at Saphira in surprise. _Oh, do not act so shocked. When the arrow hit you, it was caught in your chest rather well. What was worse was the fact that it was a barb-headed arrow. It was a rather tricky predicament. The metal was lodged against your throat, cutting off circulation. Arya was rather distressed when she had to push it out. One wrong move and you could have died._

_Were you in a panic?_

_No, I was not._

At his amused expression at her denial, Thorn turned towards them, as if sensing the conversation. Eragon allowed him entry into his mind. Immediately, the male dragon's deep voice rumbled in his mind. _If it were not for Arya and I, she would've torn the elves to pieces. And I'm sure that they would've defended themselves._

She huffed, but did not contradict the red dragon. Eragon smiled and reached out to pat Saphira gently on the snout, earning a lick on the arm. One of the elves, who had been watching Eragon, stood up sharply. His starlight hair was bright in the darkness. He moved to stand before Eragon. Bowing deeply before him, he twisted his right hand over his sternum then touched his first two fingers to his lips. "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Eragon-elda, and without giving Eragon a chance to reply, "I am Edurna of House Tsébin; I cry your pardon, for it was my arrow that pierced your chest. I deeply regret such an act. Please, do not allow this event to mar your opinion of my race."

Eragon stared at Edurna, and he could see in the elf's face the deep regret he held. His eyes flickered to Arya's expression, which was tense, her eyebrows slanted. He was not surprised that it had happened; he had expected a charge, rather than just an arrow. Touching his first two fingers to his lips, he replied, "Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr, Edurna-finiarel. It was a simple mistake." Eragon finally said quietly. "You were just being cautious and I do not hold any animosity for you."

"Elrun ono, Eragon-elda, un du evarínya ono varda." Edurna replied, relaxing only slightly.

One part of him screamed that he was an idiot to forgive Edurna, for he had nearly been killed by his arrow. But to survive in Ellesméra, he had to bend his pride. This was merely a test for what might happen as he was presented to the queen. Edurna had still to stand. Eragon realized that he was waiting for Saphira's forgiveness as well. He poked her hard in the side and from the smile that graced the elf's face, saw that she too, had given it.

When that was out of the way, the elves again began to sing and dance. They truly were capricious. "That was kind of you." He turned, glancing at Arya in surprise, not realizing that she was next to him.

"Did I do something kind?" said Eragon, bemused by her statement. She seemed to find his confusion amusing, for she tossed him a faint smile, shaking her head. When she did not question him anymore, he sighed. One never knew what an elf was thinking. No wonder why Galbatorix did not want to face them directly. Even when he was strong, taking on the elves in their forest would be a humiliating downfall. "How are you feeling?"

Now it was her turn to be bemused. "Should I be feeling any different?"

He shrugged. "Has it subsided? Your fear?"

Arya sighed and her long fingers swept through her dark hair. "It has but grown." With that she stood and left for one of the huts.

The next morning, they were packing their things into canoes, which, to Eragon's surprise, were strong yet light. As they were boarding, he found it amusing how Arya insisted that he share a canoe with her and Narí, while Murtagh, Orik, and Lifaen boarded the other. She must not have wanted Eragon and Murtagh together, so as to avoid any potentially embarrassing scenes. If that were to happen, it would disgrace Arya and only show to the elves that two of their hopes were ignorant and foolish Riders.

Eragon did not need to learn how to paddle, for he had been taught as a child while fishing. As they paddled up Eldor Lake, a sense of peace settled over him. It was quiet, except for the chirps of birds and the tumbling of water over rocks. Du Weldenvarden was much different from the stone cities of the dwarves and the brick and mortar walls of the cities within the Empire. He could sit there, paddling in silence for hours without complaint.

As they traveled, Arya often engaged him with conversation. As well, Narí would ask him of Urû'baen and the Empire and the goings-on of other cities. He would reply politely, though he spoke most of the time to divert Arya's attentions from her fears of returning to Ellesméra. The strange and warm feeling he had for her only grew more intense as he spent more time with her. Though he did not understand it, Saphira would often enjoy teasing him on the subject.

He turned his head to stare at Lifaen, who was gazing at Arya's dragon that was paddling in the water beside their canoe. A strange hope gleamed in his eye as he gazed at the emerald dragon. Eragon understood; an elf as a Rider was a great hope, for everyone knew that elves were skilled with the sword and strong in magic. Little did an elf need to be taught. They were proud of Arya, he thought. Proud that she was a Dragon Rider. She, who devoted herself to the greater good of her people, was finally able to do so to the fullest, to become the bearer of their hopes and ambitions.

Deep in thought, he blinked when a white feather drifted from the sky. Fascinated, he reached out his hand; watching as it landed lightly on his palm. It must have fallen from a passing bird. "Do you collect feathers?" asked Arya, who was gazing at it intently.

He shook his head. "No, I just find it to be a beautiful symbol, that's all." He took in a deep breath. "Birds are blessed."

"How so?" said Arya, genuinely intrigued by his statement.

"They have wings," explained Eragon. "Wings symbolize freedom for those who have none. They are above all other creatures, having a freedom even as great as dragons'. To fly from one place to another without restraint, that is true freedom." _Those wings, I want them too. _"But I was blessed with Saphira, and her wings have brought me here, to Du Weldenvarden. She gave me freedom."

Understanding shined in her eyes as she nodded. A small breeze lifted the feather from his palm; it drifted forward towards Arya, lightly breezing across her nose. He watched as her face scrunched into a frown. Then she did something that surprised him. Her mouth opened into a small 'O' shape and a sound that he had never thought to hear from her came out.

She sneezed.

He stared at her for a moment, before he could not help himself; he found his mouth twisting into a smile, and a booming laugh coming from between his lips. Arya was so regal and dignified that the act made her look ridiculous. He had held her in such high standards; Eragon had forgotten that even she had to sneeze now and then. The look of astonishment on her face, from his reaction, made him laugh even harder. From some distance, he could hear Saphira's roar at his mirth.

When he finally regained control of himself, Eragon shook his head, staring at Arya's back as she continued paddling. It surprised him, just slightly, as he came to realize that he enjoyed being in the elf's presence. It calmed him, like nothing else could, not even than Saphira and his mother. The warmth in his chest bloomed.

**So, what do you all think? I just had to put in Arya sneezing. It was a must have for me. :) But my life is getting pretty busy nowadays and I'll try to keep to my policy of fast uploads. I know how it feels to wait around forever to read something that you like. Please review and tell me if you like the ExA fluff because I plan on putting loads more in my story. And we are almost at 200 reviews! Just keep going and a chapter of Eragon's servants shall be posted! See you all at the next chapter! :) And don't forget to review!**


	17. Chapter 15

**I'm so excited! Hehe...finally we're getting somewhere! Oh I forgot to mention in the previous chapters that the two elves stayed to guard the outpost in Ceris so I hope no one got confused there when only two accompanied Eragon. Another chapter, and it seems that the majority of you want Eragon and Arya together at the Agaeti Blodhren and I shall try to make that happen. But I want to see if I can cover some of their relationship first. But besides that, happy reading and reviewing!**

Since leaving the outpost of Ceris, Eragon had found traveling with the elves to be an irritating experience. They laughed at any opportunity, smiled too often and praised the dragons too much — though it was clear that they did not mind. Saphira loved to be flattered. They were a proud race. He did not trust the elves, except for Arya; and even she appeared uncertain of how to act around her own people. He was glad that she was so forthright, for Narí and Lifaen never gave him straight answers, always in roundabout ways. That was why he gave up speaking to them altogether. He found it meaningless to waste his breath, when he would not receive an answer to his question. Murtagh on the other hand was delighted to be in their company and continued asking questions. His half-brother was a fool.

The elves, Eragon decided, were a conceited race. The war with the dragons' had proved that. They had killed a dragon as if it were a mere animal and had resigned their fate to a bloody war. They still were a conceited race. Their superiority in magic and strength made them overconfident. His eyes drifted to Arya's back. He sighed, whenever he thought of or saw her, his mind could not focus and ached as if someone was pounding on his head with a hammer. He stretched slightly where he sat; he hated sitting in one place for so long. It made him feel restless. Arya turned to stare at him, one brow raised, "Would you like to rest?"

Eragon shook his head. "No, I'm fine." He brought his paddle down again only to have it tugged out of his hand. Glancing down at the water, he openly frowned when he realised that Arya's dragon had taken the wooden board and bit a large chunk out of it. Yesterday, Saphira had been busy communicating with the dragon. Eragon had grown annoyed at this. Her attention was constantly occupied with the emerald hatchling and he had deliberately distracted her. _This must be revenge, _Eragon thought, half amused, half irritated.

The elves on the other hand were praising the emerald dragon as it swam through the river beside their canoe. It may turn out that they would write sagas about this. Now with nothing to do, he felt even more restless. Eventually, Arya handed her paddle to him, and turned her entire body so she sat facing him as he paddled. "So," Eragon started, casting about for a topic. "He does not seem to like me much."

A smile formed on her face as she reached out to stroke her dragon's snout. A few more days and it would be old enough to talk. "Only because you can easily draw Saphira's attention, as he can. Maybe even more so. I am afraid he has taken to her."

He sighed. "Having to share her attentions will take getting used to."

Arya turned to gaze at the clear, sparkling water of the Gaena River, before turning to face him. "What was your childhood like, Eragon?" Her voice was soft as she asked and he so was thrown off by her sudden interest that it took him a moment to reply.

"Why would you like to know?"

"You never speak of yourself often . . . and I—" she stopped herself and turned to stare at him. Eragon gave her a grim smile.

"I grew up in a castle in Urû'baen, next to the palace in which Galbatorix resides. Being a child I did not understand many things. I never did much work or labor at all. Servants did all of that. The only things I have ever done were read and learn." Eragon sighed. "My mother did not go out much, so neither did I. That is why I did not have friends at that age. I stayed indoors with my mother often. I did not truly understand the world, until Saphira hatched for me."

"Were you happy?"

He considered this for a moment. "Yes and no."

"Growing up, there was very little that made me happy. And being under Galbatorix's watch was not one of them." His expression grew thoughtful. "Or perhaps I was just hard to please."

_I believe the latter; _Saphira appeared from over the trees and dived into the water before them, shaking the canoes roughly. He watched as she swam over to nudge him in the nose. _You were a spoiled child. Fr_om the way Arya chuckled, he knew she had heard it too. _But I love you._

He smiled and bent forward to kiss her snout, a sign of affection he rarely showed to anyone. This earned him a wink as she pulled back before diving underneath the water and reappeared next to Arya's dragon. He could feel a somewhat strange emotion from Saphira as she swam in the water. He gave no voice to the thought. "I think I can imagine that, you as a spoiled child."

"I am sure that you can," Eragon replied, straight-faced.

The following day, as they were packing up camp, Arya instructed the dragons to fly only at night, as they would be passing one of the elven cities, Sílthrim. It was integral that the Queen be the first to meet them. Saphira had violently protested to this. She did not trust the elves as much as she let on. Her bitterness for the arrow mishap was still intense and deep. _If I leave you, the next thing they might do is stick a lance through your heart!_

_You worry too much, _Eragon soothed, though he was grateful for her protection. _I trust Arya to protect me, don't you?_

Here, the strange feeling welled up within her and he made a curious expression as she turned her head away from him, hiding her large eyes. _You seem to become more relaxed around her._

_Her presence is soothing; she is a good friend._

Saphira sighed as if annoyed with his response. _You are rather blind, Eragon._ Then she continued in a softer tone. _I have always known this would happen. I was prepared for it, but it is much harder than I thought. I have to accustom myself to sharing._

To say that he was confused was an understatement; he did not understand her inference. _Sharing? _What was she going to share? When he had asked, she did not answer, but lightly nudged him. _Go on, little one, I will be fine with Thorn and you can calm Arya's fear. Nothing shall happen to the hatchling._

_Take care, then._

With that, he reluctantly turned away from Saphira to board the canoe before frowning at the sight of Murtagh wearing a hooded cape. "Should I wear one?"

He felt his blood boil when Arya stood close to examine his ears, though he could not understand why. "No, your ears are pointed as ours; no one will suspect that you are an outsider."

He nodded and boarded the canoe again, though the stark loneliness of not having Saphira close by pierced him. It was hard to endure, for everywhere he went since he was twelve; she had been by his side, as much as part of him as he was her. She had protected him with her physical strength and her warmth. As their connection grew fainter, the loneliness grew larger, until he felt a coldness the world.

They had passed many elves, as Arya had predicted, propelling the same type of canoe down Ardwen Lake. She must have noticed the effect that not having Saphira with him had on him. She would murmur to him quietly as they traveled through the water, to keep his thoughts occupied. For that he was grateful.

"We will stop here for the night," Arya said as Murtagh brought his canoe next to theirs. They made camp a ways away from the bank of Lake Ardwen. Before dinner, Eragon went to collect firewood. Wandering about, he heard a loud rustling noise, mixed with harsh cries not far away. Following the sound, he came upon a small ravine and on the other side, a gyrfalcon with a broken wing thrashed in a thorn bush.

The raptor froze when it saw him, then opened its beak and uttered a piercing screech. Watching through his eyes, he regretted the raptor's predicament. _What a terrible fate, for one of the sky to die on the ground._ Concentrating, he cast spells of inspection, hoping to find the falcon's body healthy enough to heal. While he intoned, Arya and Murtagh walked towards him, having gone to look for him when he had not returned with the firewood.

When he had finished, he found Arya looking at him with an inquiring stare. In reply, he shook his head. An unspoken understanding passed between them and Arya fixed a comforting look towards the falcon. Quietly, she spoke a single word of death and the falcon slumped over peacefully. Without another word, they both turned away, heading back to camp. Murtagh stood still, processing what he had seen. Turning to them as they passed, he asked simply, "Why?" Arya and Eragon exchanged a glance. Eragon replied, "It had lost too much blood and could not be healed. It would have died tonight. It was no easy thing to do, but Arya saved it hours of suffering." With a slightly troubled expression, Murtagh nodded in reply. The three then walked back to camp in silence.

Dinner was a boisterous affair; Narí sang a fast melody, while Lifaen accompanied with reed pipes. After the meal, their energy died down to soft spoken conversation. Eragon felt a strong urge to throw his bowl at Murtagh, who kept asking questions to the elves. New ones sprung from his mouth with as much ease as breathing. This _person _must have grown up in a world that knew nothing of matters besides farming, hunting and chopping down trees.

Leaning against a trunk, he stared tiredly at a meteoroid streaking across the sky and was about to sleep when a woman's voice drifted from the direction of Sílthrim. Soon enough, more voices joined in, creating a sensual melody that rose and fell with a teasing sigh. It was good that he had wards protecting himself, but even then, his blood seemed to pound thunderously through his body. Eragon forced the strong feeling away, stomping it into nothingness.

Murtagh on the other hand was having a problem. He stood up with a wild abandon and made to run for the forest, but when he went past Eragon, he deftly stuck his foot out. Watching as his brother tripped, Eragon sighed. He stood up and held Murtagh to the ground, while Arya murmured the spell to ward off the music. On the other side of the fire, Lifaen and Narí were busy wrestling Orik into submission and for a dwarf he seemed to be giving the elves a decent bit of trouble.

". . . Nasuada."

He glanced down; surprised at the name of his liege lord leaving Murtagh's lips in a faint whisper. So he did have affections for the dark-skinned woman. A smirk stretched across Eragon's lips as he stared down at his struggling brother.

"Gerr'off me," growled Orik. Lifaen and Narí lifted their hands and backed away.

"Your pardon, Orik-vodhr," said Lifaen.

Eragon, seeing that there was no further need to restrain him, stood as well, allowing Murtagh to sit.

"What . . .?" Murtagh asked, dazed.

"I miscounted the days; I did not want to be anywhere near a city during Dagshelgr. We sing in the ancient language, and the lyrics weave spells of passion and longing that are even difficult for us to resist. For mortals, they are perilous."

Yet despite the explanation, as Murtagh sat closer to the fire, he glanced towards Arya, another one of his dratted questions bursting forth. "What is the point of Dagshelgr?"

"To keep the forest healthy and fertile. Every year we sing for the life of Du Weldenvarden and the more elves that sing, the more powerful the song. And the greater the forest becomes." She motioned towards the animals that ran past or through the clearing in a wild frenzy. "They are in search of mates."

Orik came around the fire, raising his voice. "By my beard and axe, I shall not have my will be controlled by your magic. If it happens again, Arya, I swear I shall return to Farthen Dûr and you will have the wrath of mine clan upon you."

"Calm down, Orik." Eragon said, sitting away from the fire as he resumed his position against the tree trunk. "It is their custom. Even if Arya's shielding us, you cannot escape the magic of Du Weldenvarden; the entire forest emanates it."

"You seem to be fending rather well by yourself." The dwarf grumbled. Eragon shrugged.

"I have no need to let feelings of passion and lusts control me. My desire for such is not enough to overwhelm my every thought," he responded. Letting out a yawn, he nodded tiredly to the sky. "Wake me when we leave, I don't feel the need to stay awake all night."

From where she sat at the fire, Arya nodded, her eyes drawn towards Sílthrim with a hungry expression. He was, however rudely awakened by a loud thud, as two large beings hit the ground. Feeling a panic overwhelm his mind, he peeled his eyes open to find Thorn and Saphira snapping at one another. The spell! Jumping to his feet, he rushed forward as the red dragon attempted to lung for Saphira who snapped at him. He could see the horror on Arya's face as she realised they had forgotten the dragons.

From what he already saw, Saphira had a large gash on her tail that was dripping blood. At the sight of the dark red liquid that splattered the ground, his anger overwhelmed him and he rushed forward, bringing himself between Thorn and Saphira. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Lifaen, Narí, and Orik struggling to restrain Arya's dragon. Murtagh on the other hand was having a problem from where he hung on Thorn's neck, if the red dragon were to toss him recklessly; it could end up killing him.

"Stop!" Eragon yelled as Saphira snapped her jaws again. She must be better at resisting the urge of the magic, maybe more so than Thorn as she was older than him. He dodged a furious swipe of talons. _Arya, hurry. . ._

"Calm yourself, Thorn!" but his statement was met with a loud roar. He made another swipe and this time a talon managed to rip open the skin on Eragon's right arm. _Damn! _His luck was getting worse and worse as he traveled to Ellesméra. Being shot with an arrow, and now he might even be shred to pieces by a dragon.

At the sight of blood, Saphira let out an enraged roar and made to leap at Thorn but when Eragon sent her his frantic emotions, pleading with her to stay calm, she resisted. It seemed that both dragons were calming down and Eragon was glad as Arya stepped forward, weaving the protective spell around them.

"That was reckless," said Arya, as she pulled his bloodstained arm towards her. Speaking in the ancient language, she held her hand tightly over the wound, which was soon drenched in the red liquid. He watched as the wound closed up, the skin coming together. "You may be strong, but not a match for a dragon."

"Well, I wasn't going to stand there and let Thorn keep snapping at her." he sighed. "To be the only female dragon." Walking over to her wounded tail, he quickly healed it. "It is a good thing your dragon is not fully matured."

The possibilities, Eragon thought. _How are you feeling?_

_Alive! My blood boils just being a mile away from the singing. It is as if everything is alive!_ Saphira exclaimed, her talons digging into the ground as she kept herself motionless. The thought of sleep was wiped from his mind as he stood next to her. His hand rubbed soothingly at the scales in the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

When dawn approached Lifaen and Narí went to fetch horses for them to ride to Ellesméra. They returned three hours later with seven white stallions, six to ride and one for their provisions. They were proud and noble, Eragon observed, like the elves. Powerful and only just taller than ponies. "They respond to the ancient language," Arya explained. "But do not mistreat them with blows or harsh words, for they are not our slaves."

Mounting the saddled horse, Folkvír, Eragon turned to Saphira. _One more day._

_I shall join you then, little one. _He nodded, glancing back at Thorn with creased brows.

_Eragon . . . _he frowned as a deep voice rumbled in his mind. He did not particularly want to speak to Thorn at the moment. _I will keep Saphira company._

His eyes turned meeting emerald ones. Arya's dragon talked! The dragon seemed to laugh at his reaction. _My name is Eridor._

He frowned glancing at Arya, _Have you spoken to your Rider yet?_

_Yes, _Eridor replied, his deep voice, still shocking. _Last night._

_I see. _He glanced from Eridor to Saphira. _Till night falls, then._

Gently spurring Folkvír forward, he followed after Arya. "Eridor, did you come up with it yourself?" he asked as they rode side by side.

"I did. A fitting name, is it not?" He nodded, agreeing with her.

The next few days were spent traveling with a hurried pace through the forest. Eragon did not mind how it would become pitch black at times. The myriad branches above would weave together to form a thick blanket that blocked the sun. Nor did he mind the pouring rain, which drenched them to the bone, with chilling water. As they rode deeper into the heart of Du Weldenvarden, the trees grew thicker at the trunks and taller, as well as farther apart which accommodated the dragons.

When noon came, a strange glow was set before them, and Arya signaled for them to pull to a halt. An elf stood before them, garbed in flowing robes, with a silver circlet upon his brow. His face was old, noble, and serene.

"Eragon, Murtagh," said Arya. "Show him your palms."

Baring his right hand of its leather glove, he raised it so that his gedwëy ignasia was visible. Murtagh did the same on the other side of Arya. The elf smiled, though his eyes lingered on them for a fraction longer, and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture.

"The way is clear." Arya affirmed. At a soft command, her steed moved forward. They rode around the elf, and when they had all passed, he vanished as the light bathing him ceased to exist.

_Who is he?_ Asked Saphira.

Arya said, "He is Gilderien the Wise, Prince of House Miolandra, wielder of the White Flame of Vándil and guardian of Ellesméra since the days of Du Fyrn Skulblaka. None may enter the city unless he permits it." Eragon nodded. A quarter of a mile beyond, the forest thin and they passed two trees, and as he studied them, he found that they were elegant houses formed from the tree itself. As they rode further, more houses began to present themselves, each unique and elegant in its own way.

Eventually the inhabitants of Ellesméra revealed themselves. One by one the wary elves stepped into view, their almond eyes fixed upon the dragons, Arya, Eragon and Murtagh. They were like Arya, Lifaen and Narí — fair with angular features, and a beauty that belay their strength. He touched his lips in greeting.

As one, the elves bowed from the waist. Then they smiled and laughed with unrestrained happiness. He glanced towards Arya; she must be a large part of their joy. Someone in the midst of the elves, a woman, began to sing. Arya dismounted her horse. "Gánga." The stallion nickered and trotted away. "Release your steeds as well; we do not need them from here on. They deserve to rest in our stables."

Proceeding along a cobblestone path, Eragon felt slightly annoyed as the crowd of elves followed their party, dancing and weaving through the forest. Some were running above their heads, on branches, laughing with merry delight. They praised the dragons the most, seemingly not running out of compliments to give.

The path ended at a network of roots that formed steps, they climbed to a door embedded within a wall of saplings. The moment was coming to present himself to Queen Islanzadí. He was slightly worried of the outcome of his presence in Ellesméra. The door swung open, revealing a hall of trees, twelve chairs were arranged along each wall.

Seated in them were four-and-twenty elf lords and ladies. Unlike the elves outside, they bore circlets atop their heads and swords at their hips.

At the end of the hall, there stood a white pavilion that sheltered a knotted throne. Queen Islanzadí sat upon it. She was beautiful, proud and imperious, with two dark brows slanted like upraised wings, lips as bright as red holly berries and midnight hair bound under a diamond diadem. Her tunic was crimson. Around her hips was a girdle braided out of gold. Clasped at the base of her neck was a velvet cloak. Still, despite that, she looked fragile, as if she concealed a great pain. At her left hand was a rod and atop it stood a white raven, shuffling impatiently.

The door closed behind them as they entered the hall and approached the queen. Arya knelt on the moss-covered ground first, then Eragon and Murtagh in unison, then Orik, Lifaen, and Narí. Even the dragons lowered the heads in respect.

Islanzadí stood and the movement struck a chord in Eragon. The way she did it so fluidly and regally reminded him distinctively of Arya. She stopped before Arya and with trembling hands, placed them on her shoulders, saying in a rich vibrato, "Rise," Arya did. Eragon watched, studying the scene. The way she stared at Arya was different to how queen would look on her ambassador.

At last Islanzadí cried out and embraced Arya, saying, "O my daughter, I have wronged you!"

**Alright, I apologize for not getting the scene with Islanzadí in but this chapter was too long and I want to described that scene perfectly so you're all going to have to wait for a little bit until I upload the next chapter everyone! But besides that, what did you think? See you at the next chapter my avid readers.**


	18. Chapter 16

**Good job everyone, 200 reviews! Though I did considering posting the chapter for the servant's background, I thought that might get you all somewhat antsy since you are all waiting for this chapter. I hope I won't disappoint you all. But besides that tomorrow I shall hopefully post up the bonus chapter! And some questions to answer. Why didn't Saphira beat Thorn up for his snapping? Well, since he is a male dragon, his instincts to mate with her had overcome him during the song, but Saphira who was older and had much more experience and could control herself better and she knew that it wasn't Thorn's fault that he acted that way so she didn't want to attack him. And more questions. Why didn't Brom want to travel to Ellesméra? I've been thinking long and hard on this chapters back. Really hard actually. One I thought he might be a better help with the Varden (and this is probably laziness speaking but I didn't want to write three extra chapters because the dragons couldn't carry three.) Two, who thinks that Selena is too old to have a child? (Hehe. I've got something special planned for that.) Next question, the void that Eragon feels, I shall not reveal to you what it means. But it will show itself through the chapters and I will have Vanir to help explain that. So many questions! I hope that cleared some things up. And Murtagh's scar does hurt him but I never write it in. I will though when their training starts and Vanir comes into the story.**

Eragon stared at the two; he was surprised yet at the same time he was not. There had always been inkling that there was more to Arya than she let on. He had first noticed while she was his captive at Gil'ead. She possessed an air of authority that was hard to miss, and she was also very regal in posture. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the surprise on Murtagh's face at the revelation. It would seem that he did not take notice to many of the clues that were exposed to him. The fact that Islanzadí had cut ties with ties with the Varden at Arya's supposed death meant that she was a person of great importance to the elves. He was sure that her position had risen even higher, now that she was a Dragon Rider.

Saphira's amusement washed over him. _It appears we were traveling with royalty. Funny, is it not? You gave orders to the princess of the elves._

_It is more amusing that she followed them oftentimes, _Eragon thought. He watched as Arya seemed to take no heed to the words, saying formally, "Islanzadí Dröttning."

The queen withdrew as if she had been stung and then repeated in the ancient language, "O my daughter, I have wronged you." She covered her face. "Since you disappeared, I've barely slept or eaten. I was haunted by your fate, and feared that I would never see you again. Banning you from my presence was the greatest mistake I have ever made . . . can you forgive me?"

The gathered elves stirred in amazement. As he watched, he felt a kind of empathy overwhelm him. She had been banned from her mother's presence for seventy years. In a way they were alike. The difference was that his father did not know of his existence, but her mother willingly banned Arya from hers. He had no say in whether she forgave her mother but Eragon would not wish for any daughter to live without her mother. Arya's response came after a long while. "For seventy years, I have lived and loved, fought and killed without ever speaking to you, my mother. Our lives are long, but even so, that is no small span."

Islanzadí drew herself upright, lifting her chin. A tremor ran her length. "I cannot undo the past, Arya, no matter how much I might desire to."

"And I cannot forget what I endured."

"'Nor should you." Islanzadí clasped her hands, and Eragon could see that she was backing Arya into a corner as she spoke the next words. "Arya, I love you. You are my only family. Go if you must, but unless you want to renounce me, I would be reconciled with you."

Eragon saw her hesitate and glance at her audience and to his surprise, her green eyes flickered to his. He was not sure what expression he bore, but it seemed to harden her resolve. Though their eye contact was for a mere few seconds, Islanzadí did not miss it, and he could see in her own eyes what sort of relation Eragon bore to Arya. "No, Mother. I could not leave." Then Islanzadí smiled uncertainly and embraced her daughter again, this time Arya returning the gesture. Smiles broke out amongst the gathered elves. And Eragon found himself wishing…

He ignored the white raven as it sang a ridiculous riddle, and turned to Islanzadí, bringing his finger to his lips and twisting his right hand over his sternum. Now that the family crisis was out of the way, he was unsure of his own fate, when Islanzadí learned who he was and had been. Completing the traditional exchange, he listened as Saphira repeated the gesture.

"Dragon, what is your name?" Islanzadí asked when she finished.

_Saphira._

A flash of recognition gleamed in her eyes and he knew that she had thought of Brom, his father, for his mother had once told him that his father's dragon was named Saphira. "Welcome to Ellesméra, Saphira. And yours Rider?"

"Eragon Shadeslayer, Your Majesty." This time a stir rippled amongst the elves and even Islanzadí seemed startled. Then she moved on to Murtagh, Thorn and finally greeted Eridor, who seemed to have the most respect for the queen, as she was the mother of his Rider. As he had hoped, she had asked for narrations from Murtagh of his journey. It was interesting, Eragon thought. Listening to how his half-brother had left Carvahall because of the Ra'zac, went traipsing across Alagaësia, was captured in Gil'ead and when it came to Eragon saving Murtagh, he stopped, his glance coming to rest on him. Seeing the pause, Eragon tensed and Arya did as well.

"And I was saved—" Islanzadí's dark brows slanted as she waited for him to continue.

"What is it?"

"Mother, I—" began Arya, but Eragon cleared his throat, gaining their attention. He could see their nervousness in their eyes, the fear that something unpleasant might told. He would not have anyone else explain his history; he would confess it himself.

"The truth is," Eragon began in the ancient language. "I have not always lived as Eragon. For four years, I lived my life as Galbatorix's rider, Gabranth."

Their reactions were simultaneous. The elf lords and ladies stood, their hands flying to their swords, and even Islanzadí stood, waving her hand. Two elf lords ran forward, gripping him by the arm, one of their narrow silver blades coming to rest on his neck. Eragon sighed, as Saphira roared fiercely._ Calm down._ _You're only making it worse._

Arya walked forward to stand before him as if trying to shield him from her mother's heated stare. "How could you bring such a traitor into our forest?" Islanzadí said harshly.

"He is not a traitor, he has sworn fealty to Nasuada, the leader of the Varden," Arya replied. "This is not necessary, Mother."

"Has his mind been probed? You cannot place your trust in mere words." At this Arya glanced sideways and shook her head.

"Then we cannot trust him, at least, not for now." He watched as the queen moved forward and by a silent command Arya stepped aside. He did not back down when he met her stare; instead, he held his head high, not wincing when the sharp metal cut slightly through his skin. "It will be easier for you if you cooperate with us, Eragon Shadeslayer. Will you let one of my people probe your mind?"

"No." The word came out cold and resolute.

"I see," Queen Islanzadí replied resignedly. "If that is so, then you leave me with no other choice but to detain you for the time being."

_And what of me? _Saphira demanded.

"You are above our laws, Saphira." Islanzadí said. "We cannot detain you, nor place you under guard. We ask that you cooperate with us. Your Rider will not be detained for long."

_Do what she says, _Eragon said, trying to cheer her. _It won't be long. This is the only way they can trust us._

_They cannot trust you. Though they don't have an issue trusting me, even if you're my Rider._

_That's because they know that a dragon doesn't have the choices their Riders do. If I wanted to return to Galbatorix, you would follow me, you know that Saphira, _Eragon soothed, and felt satisfied when he coaxed her to concede. Her large sapphire head bobbed up and down in a nod. The queen seemed satisfied with the answer and gave another motion of her hand.

He frowned as the elves holding him moved him forward, none too gently. When he passed Arya, their eyes met and an emotion passed through the green orbs, too fleeting for him to understand what it had been. Eragon ignored Murtagh's gaze and Orik's frown as they pushed him forward and out of the hall.

The doors opened and he sighed as the hundreds of elves that had gathered gave way to their party. Nothing was said, but they stared at him as if he were a vulture within their precious forest. It irked him. Not moments ago, when they did not know of his identity, they praised him. Now they glared at him. He was starting to dislike the elves, capricious as they were. Letting them lead him off from the path, between the trees, they emerged in a small clearing where an isolated house stood. It was different from the other houses he had passed so far. "It is protected with wards that won't allow you to use magic," one elf holding him explained.

"We'll need your weapons," the other elf instructed, Eragon nodded and handed him both of his blades. With them in hand, the elves opened the door to the house for him and he walked in without another word. The first thing he noticed, when the door had closed shut behind him, was that there was not a light in the single-room house. He could not use magic to light a fire either. Still, there was enough light within the small house for him to see comfortably.

He made out a small cot in the corner but that was all there was in the room. It was void of any other furnishing. Sitting down, he let his back lean against the wall, sighing. At least no one had attacked him, though his throat was still bleeding. Bringing a hand up to it, he fingered the thin cut. He should have healed it before entering the house. Finally having some time to himself, it gave him an opportunity to think, something he had been doing a lot of recently. Arya was princess to the elves but for some odd reason, he felt disappointed. Doubtless, Islanzadí did not trust her daughter to be within close proximity of him for now. She might not even approve of their friendship continuing, if you could call it that. Having lost her daughter once to the Empire, why should she trust him? But why should Arya trust him either?

He sighed, throwing his head back against the wall. That was when it happened again. When he blinked, he found himself standing in the white void again.

_It had become increasingly often that he found himself standing here. Another chain had disappeared and bound itself around his arm._

Eragon blinked again, loud noises from deep in Ellesméra reached his ears. It sounded as though they were having a celebration of some sort, no doubt for the return of their princess and new Riders. He could tell that Saphira was not having any sort of enjoyment with him locked up in this house. Tuning the noise out, he returned to contemplating the white void.

With his regular visions of the void, his time was running short. If he could not find a cure in Ellesméra, he was sure that it would be the end of him. But who should, or even could he ask for help? The teacher he was to meet? He pulled furiously at his hair. He hated being alone and he hated being in the dark. . .

_The room blinked before him and he found himself staring at a brick wall. There were drops of blood on it, as if someone with bleeding fingers had tried to crawl up the slick concrete to the high window._

_Eragon found himself staring at a young boy with brown hair and brown eyes. But the boy did not look young and innocent; he looked tormented and haunted. He wore a dirty tunic and breeches that were made of the finest cloth, which had been worn out by dirt and blood. The stone chamber was dark, except for the small rays of light that shone through the window. The little boy said, rather tearfully,_ "I'm scared. It's so dark. . ."

_But he had long grown used to the darkness. He watched the little boy that was sitting crouched in on himself stand and walk towards the window, his head arching upwards as a mockingbird sat on the sill, trilling in its beautiful voice. _"Those wings, I want them too!"

Saphira had given him the wings that he had wanted. She had given him freedom. _Suddenly the mockingbird took flight, leaving the boy by himself. The chamber that had become rather light in the bird's presence had returned to an aching chill. Eragon watched as the boy fought the tears as a cold detachment flooded him. _"I'm all alone."

"I'm all alone," murmured Eragon, gazing at the hard bark of the tree, refusing to let the darkness of the room overwhelm him. He did not know how long he waited in the room; there was nothing to measure the time by. It felt as if time held no power as he sat in the darkness. He hated it, just knowing that he was sitting isolated from the celebration, from Saphira. It made his temper burst through and then he was seething with anger. After a few moments, it was washed away with acceptance. This was how he was going to live his life outside of the Empire. Not as Gabranth, one of the people's trusted lords. Not as Galbatorix's loyal Rider either. He was an outcast to the Varden and every race fighting for freedom from the Black King's reign. He would forever be an outsider.

_But you do not have to stay in Alagaësia, _a small voice in his mind told him. That was right; Angela had foreseen that he would leave Alagaësia and never return. That was a welcome option to him. To start anew, live a new life. Free from old burdens. But then there was his mother…

_But she will not live forever_. Another fact, Eragon thought, sadly. He would outlive his mother by far, and even his father. When she died, there would be no need to stay in a land that did not welcome him warmly. He would live the life of an outcast. Just as he was brooding, the door opened and to his surprise, Arya walked in, with a candle in her hand.

"You do not seem very happy," mumbled Eragon at the sight of the dangerous slant in her brows. "I thought you were out there, celebrating with your people." He added as an afterthought, "They seem to be happy that their princess has returned."

That made her brows slant even more dangerously as she moved to sit before him, crossing her legs, setting the candle to the side so it could dimly illuminate the room. "They are happy." Arya agreed coolly. "Though you do not seem as surprised as Murtagh was, nor reproachful that I hid the truth of who I am, from you."

"I understand the situation better than my brother." Eragon replied, scorn lacing his tone. "Why should I be angry that you hid who you are? Knowing that you are a princess would not change the standing between us. The only person I see you as is Arya." He did not catch her surprised look, continuing. "Besides, it all stood out that you are a princess. Since I met you in Gil'ead I had my suspicions. Your posture, your aura; it was all regal and dignified. Not to mention that you do not take well to orders. And then there was Queen Islanzadí cutting off ties with the Varden when she learned of your disappearance. If you were a regular elf, I'm sure she would not have taken such actions."

They sat there for a long moment and he was surprised to hear a laugh coming from Arya. It sounded like the trilling of a bird. He raised a brow at her. "Did I say something amusing?"

"No, just the fact that you are much more observant than your brother."

"I won't tell Murtagh that you said that." Eragon replied with a smirk. "Besides, where is he?"

"Resting. His back seems to have tired him out along with the journey; I think the appeal of sleeping on a mattress has overwhelmed him slightly. Though," she glanced at his small cot, "I cannot say the same for you."

"I'm used to it." His gaze turned serious as he stared at her. "And you? How are you feeling? You have just forgiven your mother after seven decades of living outside Du Weldenvarden."

Her light mood suddenly disappeared, leaving the Arya that he had come to know. "My Mother," she said quietly after a long time, "Has been in pain since my disappearance and I am happy to see her uplifted. Though it is hard to forgive things so easily and with just mere words. How can you forgive someone for leaving your life for seventy years?"

"You did," he stated.

"I did." Arya nodded. "However, the relationship between us will not be as simple as it used to be. Still, I did think of something when my Mother asked for my forgiveness."

"What was it?"

"That bitterness is a choice." Arya explained. "That I did not have to live my life hating my Mother for a mistake that she had made. It would not serve any purpose at all, whether harmful or helpful."

He did not reply, contemplating her words. 'Bitterness was a choice.' If she was right, then it could mean that he could forgive his father. But sixteen years…he glanced at Arya; she had to endure seventy years compared to him. Eragon sighed; he did not want to think of this now. "So, what will happen to me now?"

"My Mother is going to bring you to our teacher and he shall decide if you are trustworthy."

"Do you trust me?" He could not stop himself as the question came out. Before this moment, he did not care for anyone else's trust. He only cared for his mother and Saphira, but the wall of iron around his heart was suddenly crumbling.

"I do." The statement pleased him, but he did not voice the feeling. Instead, the door opened again and Islanzadí stood in the doorway, imperiously. He watched as Arya rose and made her way for her mother, glancing back at him once more before shutting the door behind her. She trusted him. Eragon smiled faintly, returning to his thoughts, hoping for sleep to take him.

**So, what did you all think? I didn't disappoint any of you did I? But I'm really glad that you guys like reading my story. Something I haven't told you yet, I think. At first I didn't think it would be such a hit, but I'm changing my mind a little. I'm so excited to get this story going to its climax! Please review and give me some suggestions. And I'm sure, Buddy shall not disappoint with his questions and conclusions that always help me think more on how to write this story.**


	19. Desdemona

**Alright everyone bonus chapter is up as I've promised! Now, some questions from the previous chapters. Why didn't the elves figure out Eragon's identity since the elves on the fringe did? Answer— the elves had trusted the elves at the post in Ceris to not let any traitors enter Ellesméra and they had thought Eragon a good person since he was allowed passage to Ellesméra by Gilderien the Wise. Nor did they give it much thought at the sight of their princess. And another thing, Vanir will not reveal the void he will help with his actions as I should say. But no more hints! And the next chapter shall be Arya POV. So watch out everyone! R&R!**

Having finished recording the funds, Desdemona gently closed the book of records that she kept. Lord Gabranth did not bother with such matters and Lady Selena usually did not care anymore than her son did. However, that was not the reason why she took the responsibility of it into her own hands. She did it to feel useful. More so than Finny and Bard, who simply destroyed the castle with their antics. This week alone, Finny had taken large chunks out of three different walls and Bard had blown up the kitchen using his magic. And Rosalie, who was usually very graceful, had been run over by an excited Finny and Bard chasing one another. The expensive tea set in her hands had ended up crashing to the ground. The expenses to replace it were high, not to mention it was Lady Selena's favorite set.

Desdemona sighed. She had not been born a servant girl, quite the opposite really. She was daughter to a nobleman. But how did she end up serving Lord Gabranth? It was because of her father's love for money. He had sold her to an earl who was enchanted by her beauty, her very capable talents in magic and skill with a sword. She was, as Desdemona had remembered him calling her, 'a maiden that had been created to perfection by god'. However, she was against the idea, against marrying a man whom she did not know, or playing mistress to him.

It was over three years ago since she had been taken to Lord Gabranth's castle for refugee.

_Struggling against the silver cords that bound her, Desdemona felt the taste of fear for the first time in her life. She had never been afraid much, being born to a wealthy nobleman and raised in a castle with guards and servants made her ignorant to the dark world outside of her walls. The chamber in which she was held was a chamber for the dead; skeletons and bodies laid about the ground. Now she lay bound on top of a crypt. She had been force-fed a poison that prevented her from performing magic. The silver cords had such strong spells of protection on them that no matter how hard she struggled, they would not break._

That man, _she thought darkly, _I will never swear an oath to him! _Earl Drewt had bound her thus, hoping the dead would frighten her. That she would eventually tire and swear to him in the ancient language her loyalty to him. Desdemona had to admit that she was growing weary of seeing and smelling the dead bodies. No one would find her down here. Her voice would not carry up the spiral steps, no matter how hard she screamed._

_Another aspect that made her restless was the fact that she lost track of time in the dark chamber that was her prison. It was constantly dark and she had begun to think that time had stopped moving for her all together. That was until her savior had come to rescue her. He was dressed in such dark armor that she had not noticed him at first when he had stepped down from the last step of the spiral staircase._

"_What do you want?" Desdemona asked, her lips curling into a ferocious snarl. But he did not answer; instead he walked closer to her, the metal of his armor clinking against itself. A hand reached out and lightly fingered her cords._

"_A strong spell," he said. What he did next surprised her. Letting his hand hover above her silver cords, he said roughly, "Jierda!" A blue spark of magic jumped from the palm of his hand and onto the cords breaking them. The metal slid from her body, rendered useless. She felt so relieved that it made her lightheaded._

_Swinging her legs to the side of the crypt, she made to stand, only to find her feet unsteady from their disuse. She did not have to worry about that for long, however, as the armored man swept her into his arms. Without a word, he ascended the spiral staircase. She did not know what had happened afterwards, but when she blinked tiredly, she found herself lying on a red lavish bed, the sheets tucked about her. A beautiful woman with red hair, about her age, bustled about the room._

"_How are you feeling?" the woman asked. "Tired? Hungry?"_

"_Confused." Came her answer as she sat up on the bed._

"_I'll bet you are," the woman said. "I'm Rosalie by the way."_

"_Desdemona, where am I?" She glanced around the room, it was unfamiliar to her._

"_In Lord Gabranth's castle."_

_Lord Gabranth? The name sounded familiar. Desdemona tiredly rubbed her hand over her face. "He rescued you from Earl Drewt's castle when he went to visit the earl. You fainted before he brought you here."_

"_Oh," so the man who had rescued her was Lord Gabranth. "Where is he?" Desdemona asked._

"_In his study," Rosalie answered, handing her a cup of hot tea. "It'll get your mind refreshed. Drink up." And she did. The tea was delicious. Raspberry with a hint of honey. With some directions from Rosalie she had managed to find the study with ease, knocking before she entered._

_The image before her had surprised her. She had expected a man her age to have rescued her, but instead a young boy sat behind the dark maple table, flipping through a book and marking it with a quill. He was incredibly handsome for a boy, but in an unnatural way. His ears were pointed and his eyes slanted. He did not glance up when she entered._

"_I see you're awake."_

"_Thank you," Desdemona said; though her nature was never one to be thankful. She had rarely expressed gratitude in her life, had never needed to be grateful for anything. But this boy had drawn the desire to do so from her. "For saving me."_

_He nodded. "Do you plan on leaving? If you do I will not stop you. But if you would rather I hire you, then I shall, for you have skill with magic and the sword, so I have heard."_

_Desdemona considered his offer. Hire her? She had no experience serving other people. Her arrogant attitude had made her intimidating among her peers. But looking at Lord Gabranth, she felt as if she could serve him without issue. He had never once looked at her like other men did, showed no interest in her beauty, had given no notice that she stood before him. For some reason, she felt deeply connected to him. "If you will hire me, my skills are yours."_

She opened the door to his study, carrying a teacup in her hands. He sat behind his maple desk, his helm resting on the wood, a book in front of him as he read. Desdemona smiled; an expression that she rarely bestowed upon anyone. But the past three years had been wonderful and she had grown to love living with Lord Gabranth — it was very enjoyable. "Tea, Lord Gabranth? Raspberry with a hint of honey."

He glanced up at her briefly before drinking it. "Thank you, Desdemona."

Unlike before, he had taken notice of her, had looked at her. Smiling at him, she retreated from his study leaving him alone to read in peace.

**So, what did you think? Like it? Review. But now our goal is 300 reviews and then we have Bard and Rosalie left to read about. But I'm pretty sure I'll be done by then. And see you at the next chapter! Arya POV! I'm sure you're all excited about that.**


	20. Chapter 17

**Alright the meeting with Oromis! Now when you read the chapter, before you exit, please read the author's note on the bottom! I shall have some things to explain to you all! And yes, I've been thinking and thinking and thinking, and I'm sure that I won't be able to have Eragon and Arya to come together at the Agaetí Blödhren. I want to explore every aspect of their relationship. But I'll have something special for that event so no need to worry.**

Tiredly sitting up in her new bed, she rubbed a hand slowly over her face. She felt uneasy being at home. It would take time for her to reacquaint herself to being around other älfya. Glancing out of the teardrop hole in her tree that was given to her by her mother; she took in the early morning view. As a Dragon Rider, it would be unfit for Eridor to live in Tialdarí Hall; he was going to grow far larger than her chambers. Murtagh had an identical tree, which Riders had stayed in during their stays in Ellesméra, as they had in her own. Only Eragon was yet to be given one. He was confined in the dark hut isolated far from Ellesméra's center. Even so, Saphira had reluctantly stayed in Arya's tree for the night; refusing Murtagh's offer, after the incident with Thorn during Dagshelgr.

Arya's thoughts traveled to a topic she knew other elves had thought of as well; which Rider would stay in Vrael's personal tree? It was a symbol of authority, and as such would grant as much to whoever was given the tree.

The sapphire dragon was curled in upon herself, sleeping on the dais next to Eridor, who did not mind sharing his space with her. Thinking back to their journey was oddly comforting, though tiring. She had not shown it, but the close proximity of the two brothers had made her skin itch. Even though Arya had yet to see either one of them lose their temper, she was not sure which would make for the uglier scene. However, she knew for certain which would cause the most damage.

Her thoughts drifted to Eragon. Last night when she had gone to visit him, for some reason, he looked…lonely. His face was ashen and appeared tired beyond his years, as if he concealed a great pain. The urge to inquire was beaten down by her more natural habits. It was not her business to divine another's. Nor did her relationship with him seem strong enough to delve into such personal matters. But what was her relationship to Eragon? Arya thought of this as she washed herself, pleased to get rid of the dirt and filth from her body. She may not abide to wearing dresses, but hygiene was something she made sure to prioritize.

He was strange; she never knew what he would do or what he would say. Everyone in her eyes was predictable. It never took much time for her to divulge the nature of someone who was not of her race. But Eragon surprised her greatly. _The only person I see you as, is Arya._ The statement had shocked her to the core. Everyone wanted something from her, her mother wanted her love and loyalty, Murtagh wanted information and support, the Varden wanted her strength. Eragon had never asked anything of her, which only heightened her intrigue. It was a strange feeling—to not be relied on. He did not see her as a Rider or princess like her people and Mother, or as someone of great knowledge and strength like Murtagh, or as the elven ambassador like the Varden.

_The only person I see you as, is Arya._

It was a relief beyond imagination—to speak to someone who expected nothing of her, who asked nothing of her. The joy that single statement had brought her made her ponder the situation. Was it because he was the only person who had ever said such a thing to her? Or was it another matter altogether? So many possibilities. Sighing, she pulled a pale tunic over her head, clinching it at the waist, slipping her sword onto her hip.

_You have been deep in thought this morning._ The deep voice rumbled in her head. Her green eyes darted to Eridor, who was getting to his feet; shaking his body to rouse himself. Having been accustomed to nigh on one hundred and four years of mental privacy, Arya still had to acquaint herself to having another presence in her mind. _Good morning,_ she replied, tying her boots. Eridor had a calming influence on her. Unlike the wild minds of animals that she spoke to, his mind was tranquil and soothing, and it helped settle her nerves.

_That it is, Arya Svit-kona_. Arya offered the sapphire dragon a rare smile as she watched her stretch her neck, letting out a loose roar. No doubt her people would be rejoicing at hearing such a long forgotten sound in their forest.

_Isn't she beautiful? _Eridor praised. That was another thing to worry about. Saphira, being the only female dragon, was going to have to divide her attentions between Thorn and Eridor and it was clear to her that the emerald green dragon had taken a great liking to her.

A knock on her door startled them. Regaining her composure, she called in the ancient language for the person to enter, knowing it was her mother. She was wary of the confrontation that may occur. Last night, her mother had shown disapproval towards Eragon, despite the fact that he had saved her life. She particularly disliked her mother's control over whom she associated herself with. "Mother." Arya inclined her head.

"Good morning," Islanzadí greeted, inclining her head towards Eridor and Saphira, who acknowledged her in return, though the blue dragon nodded her head rather stiffly. "I hope the day finds you well, my daughter."

"It does… I did not expect you to arrive so early."

She did not answer, but instead turned. Her velvet cape billowed behind her, her right hand motioning. "Come." Without a word she followed her mother. Saphira and Eridor followed them from their descent out of the teardrop. Her course took them to the edge of Ellesméra, where the paths were faint and the buildings few.

Islanzadí stopped them at a wooded knoll and within moments, Murtagh and Orik appeared. Not far behind was Eragon, led by two elves that were holding his arms in place, their swords pressed against his neck. Dark bags were prominent under his eyes. He has seemed to be excessively tired in recent days. She could not remember a time seeing him rising from a peaceful sleep recently.

Islanzadí spoke, "Before we go any further, the five of you must swear in the ancient language that you will never speak to outsiders of what you are about to see, not without permission from me, my daughter, or whomever may succeed us to the throne."

"I thought you did not put trust in mere words," Eragon said, as Murtagh and Orik hesitantly gave their oaths followed by Thorn and Eridor.

Her mother's eyes narrowed. "In this case, I have no other choice but to do so." After a brief pause, Eragon gave it and so did Saphira.

"Thank you," said Islanzadí. "Now we may proceed."

The moved to the top of the knoll, which looked down on the forest of Ellesméra, as if it were the edge of the world and she stood on the brink of it. Arya saw a flash of recognition in Murtagh's eyes.

Loud thuds met their ears, so loud that her eardrums soon felt as if they were on the verge of bleeding, though she resisted the urge to cover her ears. Then from the edge of the cliff rose a huge gold dragon with a Rider on its back; Glaedr and Oromis. She watched her companions' reactions closely; Murtagh fell to his knees while Eragon watched on, unsurprised.

Oromis carefully descended from his dragon's back, his hands clasped before him as he approached Murtagh. "The Mourning Sage…as you asked, I have come." Remembering his manners, he hastily placed his fingers to his lips. "Atra esterní ono thelduin."

Arya frowned, he had known of Oromis? Her Mother, however, bypassed shock and turned to anger. "You knew?" she whispered. "You knew of their existence and yet you did not tell me? Why have you betrayed me, Shur'tugal?"

Oromis smiled sadly. "I kept my peace because it was uncertain if the Shur'tugal would live long enough to come here; I had no wish to give you a fragile hope that might have been torn away at any moment." Islanzadí spun about, her cape billowing about her.

"You had no right to withhold such information from me! I could have sent guards to protect them!"

"I hid nothing from you, Islanzadí, but what you had already chosen not to see. If you had scryed the land, as is your duty, you would have discerned the source of the chaos that has swept Alagaësia and learned the truth of their existence. That you might forget the Varden and the dwarves in your grief is understandable, but your own daughter? You have been blind to the world, Islanzadí, and lax upon your throne. I could not risk driving you further away by subjecting you to another loss."

Her mother's anger drained from her face, leaving her pale and her shoulders slumped. "I am diminished." Arya watched as Oromis and Glaedr took notice of Murtagh and Thorn before moving onto herself.

"It was a pleasant surprise when I saw you, Arya, a Rider," Oromis said, smiling kindly at her. She nodded.

"I, too, was surprised, if not a little overwhelmed." Eridor, who stood still at Glaedr's inspection, was waiting patiently for his evaluation. _We are well met, Eridor. I am Glaedr_. She smiled when Eridor's joy at passing under the great dragon's eyes reached her. Then it was time for the moment they had been waiting for; Oromis slowly approached Eragon. His expression was the kindest she had ever seen. It must be a connection he felt for him, as he too had been captured and tortured by Galbatorix's orders.

But Eragon refused to look Oromis in the eye. "Eragon Shadeslayer, I apologize for your situation," Oromis began softly. He motioned to the elves and they hesitantly backed away, though still close enough to react if need be. "It is an honor to meet Brom's son."

If anything, the comment only served to further distance Eragon from Oromis. As she stared at the two figures, it was as if watching a brilliant light colliding with a dark abyss. The more Oromis tried to extend his kindness towards Eragon, the more he withdrew from the Rider. It was as if he had forgotten long ago how to act in the presence of kindness. The thought made a strange warmth pass through her. "There is no need to recoil so, Eragon." Oromis spoke softly clasping his shoulders, turning so Eragon to face him. "I've seen it in your travels, in your eyes, your heart is pure."

"Then you are blind." Eragon murmured stubbornly. The two elves bristled at this, but Arya stayed calm. She knew enough of Eragon to know that he was cold to strangers. Oromis did not seem fazed by his attitude, but instead nodded.

"By your leave, Islanzadí Dröttning?"

"Go," she said, "Go and be done with you."

Oromis motioned for the three of them to follow. Eridor was still too young for her weight. Swiftly mounting Saphira, she gave no mind to her mother's stare. That could wait for later. Within moments, Eragon was settled behind her, his hands come to rest on her waist. Together the four dragons flew northward for several miles to land in a clearing situated near the edge of a cliff. A low hut was grown between the trunks of the trees.

"Welcome to my home," said Oromis as his feet touched the ground. Sliding from Saphira's back, she watched Eragon's back as he approached the edge of the cliff, his tall figure stark against the bright sky in which the sun was raised overhead. Whatever he was thinking was hidden by his detached expression, in which nothing seemed to interest him. "I live here, on the brink of the Crags of Tel'naeír. It provides me the opportunity to think and study in peace. My mind works better away from Ellesméra and the distraction of other people."

He disappeared inside his hut, returning with stools in his hands. As they took their seats, he made another trip to retrieve four flagons of clear, cold water for them. As they sat and waited for what felt like hours, Arya was surprised that Murtagh could sit still. Usually he was bursting with questions. But he waited patiently, sipping his cool water. Eragon had his eyes closed for the entire time so it looked as if he were sleeping, though she knew better.

After some time, Oromis spoke, "You have learned the value of patience well. That is good."

"You can't stalk a deer if you are in a hurry," Murtagh replied. She watched as Oromis lowered his flagon and nodded, before asking to see Murtagh's hand. It was easy to depict the nature of a person by studying their palms, but it was a practice that eluded her. Only those with the experience required could hope to divine a person through their hands. "Correct me if I am wrong. You have wielded a scythe and plow more often than a sword, though you are accustomed to a bow."

"Aye."

"And you have done little writing or drawing, maybe none at all."

"Brom taught me my letters in Teirm." The corners of Eragon's mouth curved downward. And so on it went until Oromis turned to her. Arya had to admit, it felt unusual to consider Oromis was her teacher now. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined this moment, until Eridor had hatched for her.

"You are very accustomed to a sword, a master even, and talented with a bow." Oromis observed with a slight smile, as if expecting what he saw. "You write with elegant script and beautiful lines. And I must say; there is not a single scar on your hands. With what you have experienced, I am quite surprised it is so."

Just a small tinge of pride colored her emotions. Oromis then turned to Eragon. She could see the interest that was piqued in Murtagh, as he watched and she did as well. He said nothing when Oromis took hold of his hands with a soft expression. "You are very talented with the sword, very talented indeed. Are you ambidextrous?"

Eragon nodded his head. "It's easier to kill with two hands instead of one," he replied quietly.

"You have written much, though I cannot say the same for drawing. Very little use of a bow as well," Oromis concluded. He released Eragon's hands and turned to them. "Every day an hour after dawn starting tomorrow, the six of you shall come here to train with Glaedr and I."

"Yes, Master Oromis," the three intoned, Arya and Murtagh answering quickly, Eragon hesitating slightly before responding as well, albeit with a slight hint of disdain. "Though," he turned his eyes to Arya and Eragon, "I am unsure how much training the two of you will require. I know the extent of your learning, Arya, and I have the letter from Brom explaining your training, Murtagh, but I know nothing of yours, Eragon."

He took a seat again on his stool, "From your hands I can tell that you both are well experienced with the sword. But I would like to see the extent of your skill for myself." Glancing from Arya to Eragon. "I would see you spar with one another."

Arya nodded, but Eragon shook his head. "I do not have a weapon. Queen Islanzadí has not returned my swords yet." As an answer to this, Murtagh held out Zar'roc and she could see in his eyes the curiosity of whether or not his younger brother could contend with her. She too was curious, Arya thought as she drew her blade, dulling it. Eragon did the same, after accepting Zar'roc from Murtagh with a nod. He looked apprehensive to fight, which only served to anger her. If he thought that being a woman was a disadvantage for her, she would correct his poor judgment.

They stood facing one another, their blades drawn to their sides. He blinked and she returned the gesture and within seconds, they charged, with blades raised. When her blade met Zar'roc, she was not surprised when a strong resistance met her strength. But what did surprise her was when he brought his foot up to meet her face. Jumping back slightly, she frowned. Running forward, she made a cut for his side, watching as he easily jumped over her blade, his body twisting in air as he righted himself meeting her blade as she aimed another swipe for him, watching when he landed easily on the ground.

Eragon's fighting style was unusual. She had never seen such a fight form like his before. Even though they fought with swords, he used his free hand or his feet to draw out her openings, bringing her onto the defense. Then there were times when she would ferociously charge him, only to have him dodge and jump out of the way. His control over such agile movements was exceptional. He would dance around her blade; never show her the same angle to attack from.

Time seemed to stand still for them as they fought, always dancing together, to let the flow of the moment push their bodies away. Eventually, she began to tire; even an elf could not continue fighting forever. Observing his languid movements and calm demeanor, frustration clouded her mind. How could Eragon, someone who had not eaten or rested well the previous night, continue fighting without his limbs tiring? Even when it was well over half an hour that they began sparring, his breathing was regular and his movements' fluid as if they had first begun. Arya pulled back, watching as Eragon ran forward, she stretched her arms, as if to cut her sword horizontally across his body.

He had anticipated the movement. With a fluid jump, he gripped her wrist as he flew into the air, his eyes leveled with hers. And as fast as he was there, he was gone, she heard him land lightly on the grass behind her. Swinging her sword to the side, she attempted to hide her frown when Eragon gripped her wrist, his strength holding her sword hand in place. She felt his other arm twist around her, Zar'roc meeting her throat, the cool blade resting there.

She froze at the close but intimate proximity; there was no space between their bodies as he held her there. She could feel his smooth breathing on the back of her neck. One emotion that she had thought she had grown out of came back to her, which raised the hair on the back of her head. A sudden nervousness. Arya felt it rise when she heard him murmur softly by her ear. "Dead."

**Now for some explaining to do. This chapter is not the confrontation between Oromis and Eragon. No, that would be the next chapter. For them to have a confrontation, I need them to both be alone and they will be. This probably isn't my best chapter, but I'll be perfecting my writing skills soon enough. Questions and suggestions are always welcome to me, so don't forget to review. And I hope you like the sparring, that won't be the only time they will be fighting one another. And I think I'm going to have Vanir introduced into the story a little earlier. I'm not sure how, but I shall be working on that. :) See you next chapter everyone, and I hope I won't be too late on updating it.**


	21. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18 is finally up! I am so sorry for the overly long wait! (5 days!) I usually update much faster. But I was having what we writers hate . . . writers block! But I managed it, thank goodness! Now, I hope everyone shall enjoy this chapter because I nearly wrecked my brain thinking on how to write it. And Buddy is right, the part of the Eldunarí shall come up much sooner in my story but besides that I have a question for all of you at the end. (Oh, and to pacify you all, I am trying to write a Brom POV) R&R!**

Losing must not be a habit of hers, Eragon thought, somewhat amused. After the sparring match, Arya had adamantly refused to look at him in the eye. Eridor had found this amusing, as he had stared at his Rider with bright eyes, and a slight grin. Eragon hoped she would not take the blow to her pride too seriously. He would rather not have her upset with him. He turned away to gaze at the setting sun; night would fall shortly. Then he would be free of all this—this kindness. He felt as if he were being drowned by it. He had certainly not expected such a welcome from his new teacher, after having been received in such a manner by Islanzadí. With his already extensive understanding of magic, strategy, and other things besides, he wondered what knowledge Oromis could offer him.

Placing down his flagon, Oromis turned to stare at the sky. "It is late and you need to rest, for tomorrow shall be the start of your training." They all stood to leave, but Oromis motioned for Eragon to remain seated. "I would like to speak with you privately, Eragon."

That was it; he had been waiting for this moment to come. Arya, who seemed to have forgotten her previous chagrin, gave him a concerned look. Instead of mounting Saphira, she mounted Thorn. Eragon watched as the two dragons took flight, southward to the city of Ellesméra. "A beautiful sight."

He turned to find Oromis staring at him. It was unnerving. "Please, join me in my hut." Without saying a word, he followed his master. He took a seat in one of the chairs, sat beside a great wall of scrolls. Watching as Oromis lowered himself into a seat before him.

Many emotions passed through his mind, none of them rage. He felt no anger towards the elder Rider, not in the least. He had shown nothing but kindness to Eragon; something that most did not do. Only those who were close, and knew him well, showed kindness. Yet, the elf before him knew little of his nature, of his past, but had reached out to him. He was trying to help him. But the only problem with that was accepting help. He did not know how to depend on others, and often found that he would rather not. The only person you could truly depend on was yourself. Or so he had thought for many years.

"I know what you're thinking, Eragon." Whispered Oromis. "This receding nature that you show to kindness, goes deep into your mind and soul. It reveals the tortures you were subjected to."

"You don't understand," Eragon muttered, a pained expression on his face.

"I will admit that I do not, but know that I too had been a captive. I was submitted to tortures, but eventually broke free. Hope and the chance of freedom gave me the strength to do so. But I did not escape unscathed; I am a broken man, Eragon."

He stared at Oromis, truly, for the first time. Was he seeing empathy? "But you are not. You have the strength and health of a young elf. You are not sick and crippled." His mind flashed to Murtagh and his scarred back. "'Nor are you without friends and love." Saphira…and Arya. "Let them help you, let them heal you. Let me help you."

"They cannot." He felt angry as his voice grew bitter and saddened. The loss of control over his emotions angered him. "You cannot."

"You can never be certain, if you don't try." Oromis replied softly. "Even those not close to you, if you allow them, will help you."

"Help me?" said Eragon. "I am not like you. Who would want to help me? The Varden only uses me. The dwarves attacked me, and your people detained me. All I will ever be in your eyes is a traitor undeserving of trust."

"The world has not betrayed you, Eragon," Oromis spoke sadly. "In fact, it is the opposite. You have turned your back on everyone, and have isolated yourself. Reach out, and they will in turn accept your attempts, and reach out to you."

Eragon sat stunned by his words. Everything seemed to have stopped for him. Had he pushed away those who had tried to care for him? Given up on reaching out for help? The more Eragon thought of it, the more everything seemed to have fallen into place. His mother had so desperately wanted to help him, but he had pushed her attempts away. Saphira, his life partner, tried to keep him from drowning in his own sorrow, but it would only work if he grabbed hold of her for support. His servants, Rosalie, Bard, Desdemona and Finny, had all tried so hard, filling his life with laughter and joy, but he had ignored their attempts. You are not alone. Arya. "I don't know how," he miserably admitted.

He was confessing; he was accepting fate, the new direction his path had taken since he had left the Empire. The insecurities he thought he had long thrown away after taking on the identity of Gabranth. "I cannot tell you how Eragon. But I can tell you this, keep your loved ones close, for strength and bonds of family and friends can give even the weakest man power."

That was some advice, Eragon thought warily. But no matter, he would take it to heart. "Is that all you wanted to speak about?" he asked.

"Part of it was, but there are other things that I hope I can discuss with you as well. Concerning the relationship you have with your brother." He tensed, waiting for Oromis to continue. "Murtagh does not bear a strong hostility to you, Eragon. If it's not too personal a question for me to ask, why is it that you detest him so?"

"Detest?" Eragon blinked. Was he giving off the image of hating Murtagh that much? "I don't detest him. Envy would be more accurate."

"Ah, but in time envy can grow into hate."

"I know." Eragon admitted. "Even though it's not true; I've spent most of my life, nearly all of it, thinking that my mother had loved Murtagh enough to hide him away in Carvahall, and not me. Over sixteen years, I grew envious, and maybe I even hate him. But I have come to respect him since." Despite his foolish behavior, and persistent questions. "Emotions are not set in stone and if I get to know him better, perhaps it will come to change."

"Then will you give me your word that you will at least act civil in his company?"

"On my honor as a Rider."

"Good." He nodded and continued, this time with a sort of caution. "When we met, you did not appear surprised to learn that Glaedr and I were alive."

"I'm not," he said. "Galbatorix had always suspected there were one or more Riders hiding away Du Weldenvarden, a place beyond his reach. And he was right."

"I expected as much," said Oromis with a nod. "I would also ask of you how Galbatorix has seemingly increased his strength since the fall of the Riders. However, such a discussion must wait until you trust both I and Islanzadí enough to speak of it. Trust must beget trust, so I am sure we will not have long to wait."

"I agree."

"Then we both may look forward to such a time." He glanced outside the window to find that the sun had gone. The orange sky that had been splashed with spots of red, like a wildfire, had turned a pitch black. "I hope you will come to enjoy your stay here in Ellesméra."

He nodded. "The sunset here is the same as it was in Urû'baen, yet it is different, more beautiful." The smile Oromis gave him made him uneasy, but he tried his best to settle the feeling, though it refused to be beaten easily.

"That it is, but before you leave Eragon, there is one thing I would like to ask you. What is your interest in Arya?"

He froze. Interest in Arya? What had made him ask such a thing? Arya was his friend . . . but he was not sure she even thought of him as a friend. Maybe as a Rider, or an ally, but it was not something he had given much thought to, nor did he think she had either. Still slightly confused, he tried to answer Oromis. "I have no interest in Arya besides friendship." But even as the words left his lips, it felt wrong.

"I see. And Eragon, when you reach Ellesméra; Queen Islanzadí and I have come to an agreement to give you Vrael's tree. It is your inheritance, as the senior of the new Riders that have graced our forest."

Vrael's tree? He frowned; Islanzadí must have had a hard time agreeing with Oromis, she had given him a position of authority beyond Arya and Murtagh as Riders. To be given the tree of the leader of the Riders, he was nearly at a loss for words. "What can I say, master? Your decision honors me, thank you," he finally said, humbled. "But where will I find it?"

"Glaedr has shown Saphira its location. Go and rest, you've deserved it after your long journey, and encounter with my people." He nodded, and left the hut to find Saphira crouched on the ground waiting for him. Glaedr was curled up next to the hut, giving the impression that he was sleeping.

_He was right_, Saphira said as she flew towards Ellesméra. He grunted in response, knowing it was so. _Oh, don't go acting like a brute now! We just all want to help, but you are always pushing us away_.

_I do not need help, or at least, I have not before_, Eragon replied_. I have led my life without the need of any help. It is an odd concept, relying on someone else._

_It is called trust, little one, something that you are going to have to learn to see in others from now on, _Saphira said. _And I'll be there to help you, Eragon._

He rubbed the scales on her neck with appreciation. _What do you think of Glaedr and Oromis?_

_Wise beyond measure_, came her answer. _And kind as well._

_Yes, they are at that_. Eragon thought, as he watched Saphira head straight to a tall thick tree. It appeared they were going to collide with the bark, but instead of hitting wood, they entered a large teardrop hole, and descended into a room. It was lavish. A bed sat in the center, and a dais not far off, where Saphira would sleep. A spiral staircase, which was sung from the wood of the tree, led to a study. Without thinking, he fell down onto the mattress, thankful for its comfort.

His back was unused to the soft feeling. Immediately, his muscles began to burn from having slept on a straight or hardened ground for some time. Saphira, who had curled up on her dais, surrounded his mind with her own, trying to block out his discomfort. It worked, for he found himself waking to birds trilling from outside his open teardrop window.

Sitting up, he rubbed his face, shaking sleep from his weary mind. The next course of action was a bath. Exploring the tree he was grateful to find a small room with what looked like a bath with taps, though how the elves created such a contraption, he would never know. To be rid of the grime and dirt made him feel immensely pleased, and he was able to rid himself of the growing stubble on his chin and cheeks.

Entering his bed chambers again, he was surprised to find a pair of clean clothes waiting for him. An elf must have delivered it before he woke. The tunic and breeches were made of the finest linen, and the boots were made of leather that would not wear away due to use. As he began lacing up his boots, a knock sounded on his screen door.

Who would want to visit him? "Enter." Arya walked in and in her hands were his blades.

"Good morning, Eragon, Saphira." He nodded at Arya while Saphira nudged her, having woken up when he was bathing. He returned to lacing up his boots. The sound of footsteps echoed in his ears as she walked towards the table to set the swords down upon it. "You look well rested today."

"I slept rather well," he agreed, as he stood. He glanced at his swords on the table, taking hold of one; he slid it halfway out of its sheath, studying the blade to see if it had been tampered with. Satisfied, he slid it back in.

"It was tested by one of our most experienced blacksmiths. She was rather impressed that both blades are alike in every way. Usually when something is forged by humans, there is a difference, whether it is big or small." He nodded. Strapping the sheath onto his belt.

"These swords belonged to a man who saved my life," Eragon explained. The revelation caught Arya off guard. "It was four years ago. When I was traveling to Gil'ead with Saphira, I was ambushed by a group of Urgals. I was about to be killed when he stepped in and he saved my life, but in the end, an Urgal rammed him through with his horn. So I thought that as a way to honor him for saving my life, I would fight with his swords."

He strapped the other one, on the opposite hip. "Though I did somewhat temper them with magic."

He said the last part guiltily. Shaking the thought from his mind, he returned his attentions to Arya. "So, do you sleep in a tree as well?"

"I do, though I cannot say that I'm overly surprised by the fact that you were given Vrael's tree, considering you are the most senior Rider, of the three of us." Arya spoke with a small hint of resentment. He narrowed his eyes at her, a smirk coming to his face. She must envy his position slightly. Being older than him, she may have believed he would not have been appointed Vrael's tree. "What?"

"I'm just thinking." She stared at him but made no comment. Then after a while, he claimed, "You fought excellently yesterday."

As he expected, the corners of her lips twitched downward and her brows slanted somewhat, as if she had remembered something unpleasant. His theory was correct; she was not used to losing. "You fought just as well, though your fighting style…"

"Is a little different?" he finished for her, earning a nod. "You could say that, I suppose. It has always occurred to me that even if you are fighting with a sword, it does not mean that you should solely fight with a sword, you know? A practiced warrior should use their entire body while fighting; and not just the weapon in their hand."

"It's a practice I'm well acquainted with, but not one I have ever encountered in a duel," Arya commented. She glanced outside at the sky. "It is time for us to meet Oromis."

_Then what are we waiting for?_ Mounting Saphira with Arya, they flew towards the crags of Tel'naeír, to find Eridor, Thorn, and Murtagh waiting for them. Beside them were Oromis and Glaedr. "Good morning." Oromis spoke, greeting the three.

"Good morning, Master," Arya and Eragon replied, and they were both somewhat stiff in their greeting. They then greeted Glaedr as well.

"Now the first thing I would like to know is the extent of your knowledge in the ancient language. Arya you need not participate, having been raised with the language. Eragon and Murtagh, I would like to see how much you know. Eragon first."

It was easy as he had used spells for a large part of his life in the Empire. He did not have trouble explaining to Oromis the vowel sounds in the ancient language, or many other grammatical rules. He was able to carry a conversation with his Master for over an hour. Murtagh on the other hand had a much more difficult time. At a certain point in the exchange, Murtagh commented, "I've never needed very many words in my spells; Brom said it was a gift that I could do so much with Brisingr. I think the most I ever said in the ancient language was when I blessed an orphan in Farthen Dûr."

This startled Eragon and Oromis. Murtagh had blessed a child? Arya, on the other hand, didn't seem fazed by the news. "Do you remember how you worded the blessing for this child?" Oromis asked, suddenly alert.

"Aye."

"Recite it for me." Murtagh did and he felt his expression harden, while looks of pure horror engulfed Oromis and Arya at hearing Murtagh's word choices. The fool! "You used skölir! Are you sure it wasn't sköliro?"

Murtagh frowned. "No, skölir. Why shouldn't I have used it? It means shielded. '…and may you be shielded from misfortune.' It was a good blessing."

"That was no blessing, but a curse," Oromis corrected. 'The suffix o forms the past tense of verb endings with r and i. Sköliro means shielded, but skölir means shield. Instead of protecting the orphan from misfortune, she has now become a shield for it, condemning her to be a sacrifice for others, absorbing their misery and suffering so that they might live in peace!"

"It is not so—"

"It is," said Oromis, saddened. Eragon was gratified as Murtagh seemed to shake with shame and guilt.

"I'm not sure if it will undo my mistake, but Thorn had marked the orphan on the brow, just like he had marked my hand."

This seemed to have dumbstruck Oromis. "One who bears the sign of the Riders, and yet is not a Rider. In all my years, I've never met anyone such as the two of you. Your decisions seem to cause an impact beyond what anyone could anticipate."

Eragon found it hard not to slap Murtagh at the moment. Arya, who had seemed tensed by the revelation of information, had grown unusually still, deep in thought. He was boiling with rage. The fool! What did he think he was doing giving a blessing when his vocabulary in the ancient language was limited to the point that he could hardly carry a conversation? And now, he had condemned an innocent child to a horrible fate, causing the orphan to suffer unnecessary pain. And what was worse was the fact that the child resided within the Varden, where battles, assassinations, and pain was a large part of life. Would she be alive before she turned one, he wondered? He took back what he said about Murtagh last night, as the respect he thought he had for his older brother was brutally crushed to pieces. Until he righted his wrong, he could not forgive him. And if he did not, then he would be forced to amend the situation himself.

**So, what did you all think? Review time! Anyways, for my question, lemons, who likes them and who don't? I plan on writing a few, but I would like some uptake on it. Opinions are always welcome! But besides that, I shall have the next chapter up shortly, the Brom POV will be right behind that one hopefully. See you in a little while!**


	22. Chapter 19

**Alright, I hope you guys didn't have to wait long for this update! I'm trying to return to my normal speed but it's been iffy. (Four days now!) But I am so sorry if the last one had any spelling errors, I'll try to fix them as soon as I can but I hope this one doesn't have as much. I hope you all like this chapter, I liked writing it. Moving on, the Brom POV shall be updated after this chapter and so will the bonus. My god, I am so proud of my story and how much you all like it. But any questions or thoughts please, review, I love to clear a point up. :) R&R!**

Back in his bedroom in the tree, Eragon fought to stay in control of his anger as he found a tray of food waiting for him. Carrying his tray back to the bed that had been remade with fresh linens, he felt grateful for the fact that there was something hot that could warm his cold stomach. He hadn't been expecting that revelation from Murtagh. Propping himself against his pillow, Eragon was about to start eating his soup when there came a gentle rapping at the opening of his chamber. "Enter," he said warily, afraid of who might come in.

But it was only Arya. _Who else would come to visit him? _It had been but moments since he had seen her after their training from Oromis. Eragon was a little sore having trained in the second Rigmar pose, while Arya had been rather fluid until she had to try the fourth pose. She wore the same soft green tunic from the morning with a girdle adorning her waist and her hair free from her usual headband. Her posture was relaxed; she seemed to be finally at ease.

"Is something amiss?" Eragon asked, his curiosity piqued by her appearance — not that he found her presence a burden; it was rather pleasant. She shook her head and moved to sit down at the edge of his bed.

Touching her first two fingers to her lips, she said, "Do you intend to stay indoors this evening?"

"Unless you have something different in mind," said Eragon, taking a sip of his soup. The hot liquid ran down his throat and settled comfortably in his stomach. He held an apple out to her and just like last time, she took hold of it, eating with him.

"I do," said Arya, glancing up briefly just to see Eridor glide in through the teardrop window. "You've been in Ellesméra for three days now and you have seen nothing of our city. After you eat, if it wouldn't be too much to ask, set aside your indifference to my people and accompany me." She took a bite of the apple.

"For a princess who doesn't speak of her position to others, you do give out a lot of orders," said Eragon with a smirk. She said nothing, the only reaction that showed that she had heard him was her lips twitching upwards. It didn't take long for him to finish eating, not with Saphira breathing down his back as she wanted to see Ellesméra with Eridor. When he was done, Arya had gotten to her feet and took hold of one of his swords from where it lay by his side. The other he strapped to his waist.

Following her down the stairs that was grown out of the tree, Eragon felt blinded when he walked out into the evening sunlight. Saphira and Eridor had launched themselves from the teardrop window and the rays of their shining scales bounced across his face like his own personal rainbow, the only color missing being red. But Eragon knew that Murtagh must want to be left alone at the moment.

They walked under the trees, the rays of the ever-setting sun penetrating through the thick branches in spots. Here and there, he would glimpse an elf working on projects, pursuing studies with magic. He couldn't imagine himself living in a forest, just studying magic and learning the ways of the plants and trees, of art and the beauty of nature and life within living things. "It seems that there is very little for elves to strive for that is not granted by your strength with magic," said Eragon.

Arya nodded. "We spend our days learning to master what is of interest to us, which isn't much, considering the fact that my race is a long and ancient race, in which questions are constantly answered and new knowledge continually gained."

They turned into a tunnel made of dogwood draped with creepers that eventually led to a closed atrium where a house was grown around a ring of trees. An open-walled hut occupied the center of the atrium where a forge was sheltered along with an assortment of instruments. An elf woman had a pair of small tongs in a nest of molten coals, working bellows with her right hand. With uncanny speed she pulled it out and looped the ring through an edge of an incomplete mail corselet that hung over an anvil, grabbing a hammer she welded it shut.

To say he was impressed was an understatement. She was very experienced, he could tell, as Arya approached her. The elven princess greeted the elf woman first, to Eragon's surprise, as Arya clearly respected whoever she was very much. When she turned to face them he saw the greatest display of age in an elf he had come across. He felt himself smile faintly when she didn't respond. A rude elf — that was a first.

"Rhunön-elda, I've brought to you one of the newest Riders of the Varden, Eragon Shadeslayer."

"I heard you were dead," said Rhunön to Arya. Unlike the smooth music and velvet of most elves, her voice guttered and rasped.

Instead of looking insulted, Arya merely smiled. She must have had experience in dealing with Rhunön. "When did you last leave your house, Rhunön?"

"You should know, it was the mid-summer festival you forced me to attend."

"That was three years ago." As they talked, Eragon went to study the mail corselet, every single ring was welded with precision. Armor like this was hard to come by in the Empire and the Varden. Blacksmiths never took the time to weld every single ring, but considering the fact that she was an elf, time must matter little to her. Reaching out, he lifted the end of one part of the corselet, letting his finger run over the smooth metal rings. But as soon as he touched them, a hammer came swinging down onto his finger and he grunted in pain. "Never touch another's work!" Rhunön snapped, lifting the hammer. He glanced down at his three bleeding and possibly broken fingers and then turned to glare at the elf woman.

"Couldn't you tell me that, instead breaking my fingers?" said Eragon hotly. She placed her hammer down in a brusque manner. Saphira, who was usually very defensive, simply stared at the scene, amused. "It doesn't take much to say a few words!"

"Actions are burned into the mind, words are forgotten," replied Rhunön. He glared.

"Violent elf woman," he muttered, having no doubt that she had heard it. But instead of taking offense, she laughed a crackling laugh.

"A rude one, you are. Just like your father, Brom," said Rhunön, "He had come in here one day demanding I replace his sword, and was so angered at my refusal — for I had taken oath that I shall not forge another such weapon — that Oromis had to sedate him before he would leave." She glanced at his broken fingers. "I apologize for them."

He snorted but went to fixing the bones and mending the skin. Rhunön on the meanwhile had walked past him to Saphira and Eridor, examining their scales. "A beautiful color, very beautiful indeed. Not the mucky brown. Yes, the swords would have been very beautiful—" she stopped and scowled before returning to her work. The thought of it must have taken a great deal of energy from her.

Despite the fact that she had smashed his fingers, Eragon didn't feel the need to leave on such a saddened note. "If Galbatorix were to die, you can have all of your swords back." Rhunön looked at him, surprised, her mouth slightly opened. "He kept most of them, in a treasury. As trophies, you see."

"Did he?"

"Yes, when the time comes that Galbatorix is killed — which I have no doubt shall be soon — the swords you have forged shall be returned to their master." She didn't say anything but nodded and with a new energy returned to work. He felt a small hand enclose his wrist, gently tugging him from the forge.

"Rhunön-elda, I shall return for you on the eve of the Agaetí-Blödhren." A grunt was her reply.

_Is she always so brusque? _asked Saphira.

Arya laughed. "Always. Nothing matters to her except for her craft. She is infamous with the habit of being impatient with anything or person that interferes with it. But she is tolerable because of her incredible skills and accomplishments."

"She doesn't like to leave her forge often, does she?" Eragon asked dryly, stretching his fingers to test the bones. Arya shook her head.

"Rarely. I am more surprised that she had even heard of my death than that she still considered me so," said Arya, as she led him deeper into the forest. He nodded, letting his mind drift back to the last words she said to the smith.

"What exactly is the _Blood-oath celebration_?" asked Eragon.

"A celebration held every hundred years to honor the pact that we've made with the dragons. Both of you are fortunate to be here now, for it is nigh upon us . . ." her eyebrows met as she frowned. "Though coincidence, I don't think it is."

"There is nothing called coincidence, there is only fate," said Eragon, recalling a wise quote that he had read in one of the many books at his castle.

"A statement that can be called true and sometimes be a farce," said Arya, leading him to a clearing where a lone pine tree stood. It was no taller than the rest but much wider in comparison. A blanket of roots covered the ground like veins, making the forest look like an extension of the tree, as if it were the heart of Du Weldenvarden. The energy flowing from it was enough proof to tell him that it was a powerful entity within the forest and that it was not just a tree.

"Behold the Menoa tree," whispered Arya. "We observe the Agaetí Blödhren in her shade."

_Menoa. . ._Solembum's advice. If he were ever in need of a weapon, he would find it underneath the tree. But how? And if possible, would the elves let him dig underneath the roots? Would the tree even allow such an act? Walking forward, he reached out to touch the roots. They were thick enough to hold even Saphira in place, no doubt.

_Do you see anything? _he asked Saphira.

_No, but I don't doubt the fact that something of use to us could be hidden beneath all of this wood, s_aid Saphira. _But we aren't in need of a weapon yet. Not until your swords are smashed to the point of no repair, if that time does in fact come._

"You seem very interested with the Menoa tree," observed Arya, coming to his side when he squatted on the ground, studying the heavy roots.

Not feeling the need to hide it from her, he told her about the werecat's advice. She listened intently, her hand also reaching out to stroke the roots, a gentle caress much akin to a lover or a close friend. "A werecat's counsel should never be ignored for they rarely offer any. So far as I know, there is no weapon beneath the roots of the Menoa tree, whether in myth or legends. As for the Rock of Kuthian, the name is familiar to me, but I cannot remember where it is that I've heard it."

That wasn't any help at all, Eragon thought. But what had he expected? Arya didn't know everything. She wasn't the strongest nor the wisest elf. But asking for help from her didn't seem wrong. "Weapon," said Eragon. "Doesn't necessarily mean weapon. It could be anything. A sword, a lance, a piece of hard rock that could pierce anything. Or something that could have the potential of a weapon, the potential to make a weapon. A certain type of ore that fell from the heavens or steel that came from the center of the earth." He sighed standing. "But I guess we'll never be able to find out until the time comes to search for it."

"Though I doubt you will find the need to," said Arya, studying the sword she had carried. "Rhunön had said that it would take much more than Urgal and human weapons to break the metal."

"I'm glad." He turned his attention back to the tree, walking gracefully from root to root until he reached the tall pine tree. Arya moved swiftly by his side between light and shadow. Sometimes her appearance would be cast in glows from lanterns far off or swallowed by darkness, though in both she looked beautiful. "It's an intelligent tree."

"That she is." _She. _So the tree was a woman. "Shall I tell you the story of the Menoa tree?"

"If it wouldn't be too tiring for you," said Eragon, taking a seat on a root that crested the tree, lifting them twelve feet off the ground. She shot him a strange look before sitting beside him.

A flash of white caught his eyes and Blagden, the white raven, appeared beside Saphira, uttering his usual cry of "Wyrda!" The raven picked a good time to come by and eavesdrop, Eragon thought warily.

"The story began with a woman by the name of Linnea, in the years of spice and wine before our war with the dragons and before we became immortal. Linnea had grown old without the comfort of a mate or children, devoting herself to the art of singing to plants, in which she was a master. But with your life's greatest passion before you, what need do you have to take on a mate and foster children? But that was before she met a young man who beguiled her with words of love. His affections woke a part of Linnea that she had never suspected could exist, a craving for what she had given up, a desire to experience what she unknowingly sacrificed. It was a second chance. A chance too great to ignore. She deserted her work and devoted herself to the young man and, for a time, they were happy."

_But. . . _Eragon thought, having an inkling of how the story was going to turn out.

"But the young man was young, and he began to long for someone closer to his age. His eyes fell upon a young woman, and he wooed and won her. And for a time, they too were happy."

_And it doesn't end there, _Eragon thought warily.

"When Linnea discovered that she had been spurned, scorned, and abandoned, she went mad with grief. The young man had done the worst thing possible; he had given her a taste of the fullness of life, and then torn it away with not much of a mere thought. She found him with the woman and in her grief and fury, stabbed him to death."

"She knew what she done was evil. She also knew that even if she was exonerated of murder she could not return to what was her previous life before the young man. No, for life had lost all joy for her. Instead, she went to the oldest tree in Du Weldenvarden, pressed herself against it and sang herself into the tree, abandoning every string attached to her own race. For three days and three nights, she sang, and when she finished, she had become one with her beloved plants. And through all the millennia since has kept watch over the forest. Thus was the Menoa tree created."

Eragon bounced his heels against the root of the tree, deep in thought. More evidence that becoming close to others was only a curse, a burden. It would be so easy, Eragon thought, to live alone away from such temptations. Away from the pain and hurt that came with love. But when founded it was hard to let go.

"Once happiness is lost," said Eragon quietly, "it might never return."

Arya nodded. Then she turned to him. "Do you think the young man was to blame for the tragedy?"

"They were both at fault," Eragon said. There was nothing to it.

Arya stared at him with her piercing green eyes, and he met her stare, not backing down. "They weren't suited for each other."

"There are many conclusions you could come up with," said Eragon. "But the only one that would ever make sense is that love can blind even the strongest person. The desire to be loved . . . can make anyone go to such lengths."

She raised a brow at him inquiringly. "Love." He said the word with distaste. "It's safer to live life alone, away from its grips. But then again, there are people who have loved and lived till the end of time in love." Even though he didn't like love, the thought of Angela's prophecy loomed in his mind. His eyes darted to Arya's form next to him. He sighed. "Being home seems to agree with you." Eragon didn't feel the need to particularly linger on such a subject for long.

"It does." She fingered the pommel of his sword. The silver gleaming in the moonlight.

"Where did you use to live before the tree was given to you? A castle or a hall?"

"Tialdari Hall will always be my home; I often visit it in the western part of Ellesméra. I would enjoy showing our home to you." _Home. _Another sore subject, everyone had a home but he didn't particularly have one to return to anymore. Murtagh had Carvahall and Arya had Ellesméra. Urû'baen wasn't what he would call his home. Not really.

Speaking of family, Eragon asked Arya, "Do you have any siblings?" she shook her head. "Then you're the sole heir to the elven throne?"

"Of course, why do you ask?" She sounded bemused by his curiosity.

Eragon shrugged. "I was just wondering." If Arya were to die in battle, in her line of duty, he was sure that another successor or a different house would be chosen to become the next successor of the elven throne. He studied Arya for a moment. He had no doubt in his mind that if forced to lead, she would be a capable leader of her people. But would she be willing to? For a reason, he couldn't see her devoting herself to her people. But then that tattoo on her back he remembered seeing when he healed her . . . it must have meant something. But he didn't feel the need to ask her.

"Will you answer a question of mine?"

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for whatever it was that she wanted to ask him. It was long in coming, but he was patient. Finally, she said quietly, "Back then in Gil'ead, why do you save Murtagh and I?"

He stared at her and knew immediately that she was frustrated by his lack of answer to some of her questions. And this one was a question that she had frequently asked him, when he met her in Gil'ead and then in turn, the Varden. It must have bothered her greatly that he couldn't give her an answer. But did he have an answer for her? "Maybe," said Eragon finally. "Maybe, I just didn't want to see another person forced to live the way I did." He smiled at her, somewhat apologetic. "It's not an answer you're wishing for, but when the time comes that I can think of it more, then I shall tell you. But for now, I hope this is enough."

"It is," came Arya's whisper.

High above them, Blagden, who had sat quiet throughout the entire conversation let out a shriek that pierced the night. "Wyrda!"

**Now, I am really sorry for the Linnea part, I tried to rephrase it so it doesn't look like I'm taking it from the book but I was just too hard! But that would be one of the only times I ever refer to the book now on. I hope you all enjoyed it, this chapter was mainly on Eragon and Arya, and their ever blossoming relationship. Moving on, I wasn't thinking on writing a Murtagh POV anytime soon, but there are some readers who find me making him an unimportant character and now that I think about it, I probably did. So, besides the Brom POV up next and the bonus chapter, do you guys all think a Murtagh POV would be good? Maybe when he meets Vanir? Please review or message me, either way is fine and tell me what you all think!**


	23. Chapter 20

**Finally! I am so sorry for the long wait everyone! But this chapter had me on edge. It was by far the most challenging one I've written. I often had to restart and try again. I hope this try was good. This is my first Brom POV, so tell me your opinions so I can work on the later ones. And the bonus chapter shall be up after this one real soon. (Hopefully). But despite the challenge it proved to be a rather great experience. Anyways R&R!**

The day was still young and there was plenty to do within the mass organization named the Varden. Reaching the capital of Surda, Aberon, was the least of his worries. They were on the brink of starvation and people amongst them were beginning to fight and steal from one another. To say it in one word, it was chaos on the brink of disaster. But not only that, power hungry fools were reaching out with their claws trying to disturb Nasuada's leadership. And one of them was the young, and in many eyes, handsome, King Orrin. From what he had heard from Nasuada, the man felt outdone. Each race held the reigns of a Rider within their grasp and he had lost the opportunity to seize control of that factor. Shifting his weight to his right foot, Brom stared at the battalion before him. It was a rank of over a hundred men, with no experience in the areas of fighting. And they were all assigned to him.

Ever since Nasuada's elected position, she had made sure that he, Brom, was on her council of advisors. He wouldn't consider himself under her, but all the same, with Eragon beneath her as a vassal, he had no other choice but to consider her power as well. She held the power in his son's actions. _His son. _Brom had never considered, never gave thought to the idea of having a child, no less a son who was a Rider. It gave him a new light of respect seeing how Eragon was also one of the few who have ever killed a shade and come back alive. But the idea had brought him a great deal of grief. He had missed out on being father to his son for sixteen years. He should have tried harder, looked farther. It was a pitiful train of thought. But this wasn't the time or place to wallow in remorse. No, there were things that needed to be done.

"You were all chosen to be trained by me, and I shall tell you now that I will not tolerate foolishness," said Brom, his voice gruff. "One of the few things that I shall ever teach you is discipline."

And he could see the excitement in their eyes, ready for whatever task he put them to. He smirked. If only they knew what he had in mind. Within the next two hours, he had the hundred men running laps in a circle one hundred feet in length and fifty feet in width. Endurance was a key to fighting, as well as stamina. If one were to drop tired during a battle, death would be their only companion. "Err—Sir Brom," said Bard rubbing the back of his head as he watched the extensive training. "I don't think they can take anymore."

Nasuada had also lent the aid of Eragon's servants to help with the training and he had to admit they all had their special qualities, though their cheerful disposition constantly had him cautious. "No, I want to see how long they can go without complaint," said Brom. Following orders is always the first nature a soldier should have. After another half hour, he was satisfied that not one soldier had complained throughout the entire ordeal. They weren't half bad. He watched as they laid, sat or stood hunched over on the ground, panting and sweating. "That was good, better than I expected from any of you. Go home and rest, tomorrow, we'll be doing the same until you all can run for at least an hour without tiring."

"I can see where his Lordship gets it from now," muttered Desdemona. Brom frowned. He had known when he had met the four of them that they had been hired to protect Selena from danger. But there was always a little jealousy at the thought that they had known his son for longer than he had.

Life, he thought, wasn't always fair. Dismissing them, Brom made his way back inside the Aberon Castle that overlooked the busy city of Aberon where the streets were crowded. Not far off from the city was the Varden camp. His room was not far from Nasuada's so that if there was ever an emergency, she could easily call for him. Opening the door to his room, he found the very person that had changed him. Selena was sitting on the bed reading a thick book, her brown hair falling in front of her face. It was a beautiful sight and it made his heart ache. "I see you're back from training," said Selena with a smile.

He nodded. "There isn't much to do save watching them at the moment." He lowered himself to sit beside her. "How are you feeling?"

"Perfect," came her reply, making him smile. He had never felt happier than with Selena; she knew how to wash away his ease and worry with a simple phrase and a sweet smile. The reason he was worried about her? Eragon wasn't the last child that she was going to give birth to. He could remember it as clear as day. It was after a day when Eragon and Murtagh left with Arya and Orik for Ellesméra, Angela, though she did have her eccentric ways, had found that Selena was indeed pregnant. And had been for nearly a week.

The joy he had felt, to know that he was going to have another child. The sorrow he felt, when he realized that this was the first time he could experience such joys, another reminder of what he had missed much during his stay in Carvahall. To say that he was excited was an understatement; he couldn't wait for the months to pass until their child was born. But how would Eragon react when he found out? Disappointed? Surprised? Angry? The one thing Brom didn't want Eragon to think was that he was replacing his elder son. There was a knock on the door and in walked Desdemona with a tray of food.

"Lunch, Lady Selena." She said with a smile that looked rather odd on her beautiful yet haughty face. There was more than usual, enough to feed a grown person and a child.

"You've all been spoiling me too much," said Selena, folding the page she was on before closing the book.

"Not so, his lordship has warned us to make sure you were properly fed or he'll make sure we rue the day we were born." The way she said it with such ease made his jealousy grow along with his own self-loathing. But Brom was curious as to how such people came to work underneath Eragon. "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm fine," replied Selena, leaning forward to take a look at the food. It appeared, he thought, delicious, but he had a little feeling that she would not want him eating off of her plate. It was beef shimmered in a spicy sauce with rice off the side, beans and corn to the side. "Did Bard cook this?"

"He can be a rather competent chef when he isn't fooling around," Desdemona said with a nod. "Eat up, Lady Selena; I'll be back with dinner later on." With one last smile, she turned and left, closing the door softly behind her.

As Selena took up her fork to eat, he tried not to let the fact bother him that everyone seemed to know his son better than he did. It had been eating away at him ever since he watched Eragon leave without so much a word to him. It hurt but it didn't hurt like it did when he first found Selena again and that she had revealed to him that he had a sixteen year old son who was a rider. _Saphira._ He didn't know whether or not the naming of the sapphire dragon was a coincidence or something more. "You seem deep in thought."

He turned to stare at Selena, who was busy chewing a piece. "Eragon . . ."

He didn't have to finish for her eyes flashed in understanding. She lowered her fork. "Brom, I'm not going to lie to you. Eragon has been through a lot. You'll need to give him time, maybe while he's off in Ellesméra; he can learn to adapt to breathing the fresh air more freely without trying to strangle himself with responsibilities."

"I feel ashamed," murmured Brom. "I don't even know my son. And my only excuse sounds pathetic, even to my own ears." _I know Morzan's son much better than Eragon._

"It's the past, Brom," said Selena, "Right now, we should focus on the present. When he comes back, don't avoid him." She smiled in understanding, reaching out to rub his forearm comfortingly.

"Can you tell me about his childhood?" asked Brom. Selena smiled. Ever since he had learned of Eragon, he had repeatedly asked to listen to his son's childhood, but he never tired of it.

"Eragon was a sweet child, much sweeter than you," she said, "Though he was always lonely. He never went out to play with the other children his age. I've always wondered why that was, but it wasn't until he was older when I realized that he wanted to be with me. Whether it was out of love for his mother or the thought that I might disappear when I left his sight, I shall probably never know. Maybe I'll ask him one day, when everything settles down. He loved you with all of his heart." Her eyes flickered to him and he felt his heart clench at the sound of something new. Something he had yet to hear. "Ever since he was old enough to understand a small part of the world, he had always questioned who his father was. Where his father was. The only image of you he had was a fairth that I'd made long ago. Eragon loved you dearly. He longed for the father that he never had and had wished that one day you would show up and love him just as much as he loved you. I told him all types of stories about you and in his eyes, he saw his father as a hero."

"But somehow, it all changed. The affection he felt for you was cast aside when he was only seven. He didn't ask about you anymore and he tucked the fairth of you away. That was when he started to change. It was small but in time, it grew. When he was twelve and Saphira hatched for him, his entire nature became different. And Gabranth was born. I've never questioned why he had thrown away his name, but I was sure a small part of him had wanted to retain some semblance of his identity which led him to name his dragon Saphira. The dragon his father had lost."

"He was kindhearted; he took Desdemona and the rest in for his own purposes but in the end, I'm sure that he cares for them more than a lord for his servants. And they certainly do like to indulge him. Always making sure he ate and slept well." She smiled.

Brom nodded and said quite dryly, "I think Rosalie and Desdemona have that down to the point. They seem to adore him."

"You could say that," said Selena, returning to her lunch and the story. "The people admired Gabranth. He did many things within the Empire, always traveling about to the large cities and helping to put down corrupt rulers and crimes. In a way, you could say that he was almost a shadow of what a king should do. Everyone went to ask him for advice and for aid on their troubles. Though no one knew who his real identity was, I would gamble that many females were infuriated with the thought of a handsome, princely man behind his helm."

"He does look the part." Brom said, the thought of Eragon's refined elven features reappearing in his mind. "Has he ever been with a woman — ?"

"Good lord no," said Selena, surprised and somewhat amused at the question. "And I'm sure Desdemona and Rosalie will make sure that none of the female race would ever get close enough to try."

"Hmm." There was Arya, the only other female besides Rosalie, Desdemona, and Selena whose fate would also be closely intertwined with Eragon's. He felt somewhat uneasy at the thought of his son being so close to Arya. But who was he to have the right to voice an opinion of such a union? "You should eat up. The baby can't feed itself."

"Yes, sir." With that she resumed eating. He smiled; part of his world was setting itself in place, but there was another large part that he needed to fix that he needed to find a way to heal. When she was done, he left to explore the castle somewhat. He found it odd how much the King of Surda loved his science.

As he let his feet carry him to any destination, he thought. The idea of thinking wasn't foreign to him. He had thought on many occasions. Thinking was the key to success. The key to brilliant plans and the origins of intelligent minds. But there were some things that logic couldn't fix, like the elves always thought. No, emotions couldn't be fix with logic. For the past sixteen years, he had tried to live life raising Murtagh to be a man Selena would be proud of, someone unlike his father. And for those sixteen years, he had grown fond of the man he had come to be, almost caring for him as if he were his own son, watching out for his every move.

But all of that time, he had a son who had wished to see him dearly, who had wanted his father. And he had neglected that fact and continued life watching over the son of his enemy. The man who had betrayed his trust and loyalty, who had betrayed the Riders. He had never regretted taking care of Murtagh, but he regretted deeply that he couldn't care and love Eragon. _If you want everything, you'll end up with nothing, h_e thought. But was that really greed? To want to see two boys grow up happy? But the 'if' question was that, if given the chance to do it all over again, who would he look over? Murtagh or Eragon?

"Ah, and here is the teacher of one of our recent Riders and father of the other." A voice said. He turned to find Angela walking towards him as eccentric and odd as ever. "I hope your fortune has gotten better since we've last met."

"It has in some ways."

"Wonderful." Despite her cheerful disposition, she seemed on edge. "But as you are thinking, I didn't come here to speak of pleasantries with you, Brom."

"I see. Then what is it that you've come to see me for?"

"A deed that your charge has caused."

"My charge?" he frowned. "Has Murtagh done something?"

"Done something?" Her expression became dark. "It's more complicated than that. Come." She led him down the corridor of the large castle that seemed to be swathed in glass. It was convenient that it was evening for with the sun high in the sky, he was positive that the heat would've made their travels much harder to accomplish. "Sometimes, I wonder whether it was your teaching or Murtagh's bone-headedness, though it could be both."

The came to a door recessed in the inner wall of the corridor with gifts surrounding it on the floor. Opening the door, he followed her, in the center of the room was a small child eating a platter of food at her lap. Rosalie sat beside her with Solembum curled comfortably in her lap. What was it that Angela wanted him to see? A child eating?

But the presence of a cold mind, an odd existence, touched his thoughts. Was it possible that it was the child that was giving off such a mind? But how? As if knowing what he was thinking the little girl looked up, revealing a dragon mark bright upon her brow and violet eyes. Her lips quirked into a smile, a smile that chilled his bone for he knew it did not belong to that of a child.

"I've been waiting to meet you for a long time."

It took almost an effort for him not to grab his sword; the sound of an adult's voice coming from a child chilled him to the bone. He had no doubt that she knew what suffering was. "Who are you?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm Elva." She turned to Rosalie. "More food." He was somewhat surprised that the she actually rose to her feet without objection and left the room with the grace that lied in her walk. Elva then patted the floor beside her. "Please sit."

He slowly lowered himself to the floor. He stared at her and felt a magic driving deep into his consciousness tearing at his thoughts, at his memories. He fought the strong urge to recoil, when she reached out to grip his hands softly. "Remorse and guilt isn't a way of living. It's only a way to die. Time will eventually heal all wounds; your son will understand when he returns from Ellesméra. The person who loves you will help you and there will be others to help close this bridge between father and son."

He stared at her. She knew everything, all of his fears, the very things that weighed heavily on his soul. Elva had addressed them all, and had given him a small semblance of peace, knowing that whatever father-son relationship he had with Eragon wasn't useless.

But he didn't let it sway him. Elva was dangerous. She knew, for whatever reason, his fears. And if she did, he was sure she could discern the fears of others, bend them to her will and manipulate them. He didn't trust the child before him who seemed an adult in many ways than one. "What are you?" he asked again.

"I am what your student, Murtagh, made me."

That was right, Brom thought. Murtagh had blessed a child. But was this a blessing? "He blessed you."

"He didn't know what he was doing back then. The lack of education and knowledge had turned my blessing into a curse. It was much worse when I was smaller for there was nothing I could do about it then."

"About what?"

"Their pain. Every time I see a person, I feel the pain that is beset upon them and the pain that will be beset upon them. The magic in my blood drives me to protect people . . . to sacrifice myself for them. No matter the consequences of whether I want to or not." Her smile twisted bitterly. "It costs me dearly when I resist the urge to do so."

Sympathy filled him. A child bound by magic to suffer. "Why have you told me this?"

"Since you are Murtagh's teacher -" her violet eyes pierced him, "or former teacher, rather — I thought you might know how to fix his wrong and undo his curse from me."

He frowned. He was old with age even though he didn't seem older than most men. The magic required to undo her curse was something that was out of his reach. "I'm afraid that I'm unable to help you, Elva. I don't possess the amount of magic that Murtagh does."

Her eyes became obscured for a moment and she blinked nodding. "I'm sure that when Murtagh returns, he will right his wrong. If not then, Eragon might -" He stopped. Did he have the right to even suggest whether his son might lend his help? Just then Rosalie returned with a new platter of food.

"Eat up, Elva." She said gently, placing the food before the girl. With ravenous intensity she tore at the food, bending her head over the platter, hiding her violet eyes. When it was apparent that she was going to talk no more, Brom accompanied the herbalist to a separate room. Angela made sure that the door was close before she spoke.

"That was what I wanted you to see, Brom," she said with a sigh. "Nasuada was here earlier today and she agreed to feed Elva as much as she could afford to. I've agreed to watch after the young girl, but not for the next century. This _has_ to be fixed."

He nodded, that much was apparent. "Is she dangerous?"

"More or less," said Angela with a shrug. "But you've seen it and you've heard it. The person that she's most likely to kill is herself. The compulsion to protect others from misery drives her to near insanity."

"And how far can she foretell events?"

"Two or three hours at the most."

"And you're taking her under your wing?"

"That's what I've been asked and I shall try to keep up with it as much as I can." She said. "It is a good thing that Eragon's servants have agreed to lend me another eye. They're trying their best to watch out for Elva."

"But why can't they heal her? I'm sure that, besides Finny, they are capable of that magic." Brom said, more to himself than Angela.

"I've asked," said Angela. "They don't know how to go about doing so and for them to do so, they need to know the incantation that was first beset upon her." He nodded. "So, what are _you _going to do about this? Rosalie and the rest are trying to concoct potions and remedies to elevate the pain."

He frowned, thinking about the hundred troops placed under his wing. Training was going to have to take another intensity. "I'll make sure that not too many people die."

"Good . . . because when I'm done with your former student, we are going to need the extra numbers to replace such a blockhead."

**What did you all think? Good, alright, bad? Please review and tell me, I'm dying. But I'll try to post the bonus chapter tomorrow and the next chapter in a few days (4 hopefully). It's been a hard chapter but opinions are always welcomed. And I hope that you've all enjoyed the Brom POV. See you next chapter!**


	24. BARD

**Alright now the bonus chapters are up! (And I have to remind you that they are shorter than most but depending on how the story turns out they may become longer.) Anyways the next chapter will be up shortly. I've been awfully busy with a lab report that I need to finish and check over to perfection. But otherwise I will try to posting as often as I can, I promise. I want to finish this story and I want you all to read it :) But besides that have fun reading and while you do, I shall be having fun thinking of the next few chapters. Next goal is 400! And after that I shall have to find another bonus chapter to write about.**

This was a ferocious battle, he thought. What to do? He stared at the large slab of meat before him with an array of expensive spices and herbs surrounding it. Today was his lordship's fifteenth birthday and the task of making dinner was placed in his hands. If he didn't make delicacies for his lordship, Desdemona and Rosalie will have his hide. And when those two women worked together, the result was frightening. He sighed, staring at the ingredients before him again. It was hard to get used to this sense of peace . . . he had always ended up becoming nervous and adrenaline would pulse through his veins and without meaning to, his magic would always result in the food being destroyed. It wasn't long ago that he had served in the Royal Army.

_The Royal Army had up to sixteen thousand soldiers when brought together. It was split into battalions with lieutenants heading each and beneath them a trusted major. Lieutenant Randall led his battalion and Bard was his trusted major general. Randall was a man in his middle age, his hair somewhat graying in between his brown hair. And Bard looked up to him. Though at the moment they were at a standstill about a strategy. A higher power had ordered their battalion to move towards a mountain pass that led to Dras-Leona. There had been sightings of numerous Varden members, no doubt going on a raid._

"_I'm telling you, it's an ambush!" said Bard, pounding his fist furiously on the table that held a laid out map before them. "They're not camping at the northern end like reports said. They're hiding out in the mountains!"_

"_Nonsense!" said Lieutenant Randall. "A scout that ran ahead had informed us of their positions. We'll charge them now, giving us the element of surprise. It would be enough to overcome their forces."_

"_But sir, I don't think that you—"_

"_Exactly, you don't think because that's what I'm here for, major general Bard," said Lieutenant Randall crossly. "I want you all to stand ready in an half an hour. And if you don't feel you need to come, Bard, stay and I'll have you punished for insubordination once we make it to Dras-Leona."_

_He scowled but refused to say anything. Shifting his silver mail corselet on his shoulders, he replaced his boots. When the thirty minutes came, Bard mounted his steed, Caliph, gently stroking the horse's mane. "Move out!" ordered Lieutenant Randall from the front of the battalion. Bard urged Caliph forward with the other foot soldiers walking behind them._

_No one spoke but as they came near the mountain pass, he strung his bow, glancing from side to side. Everything seemed too peaceful to be called safe. He didn't believe that the area wasn't surrounded. But as they were halfway through the pass, he felt his resolve waver and Lieutenant Randall, who rode before him, turned to face him. "See? There's not one soul—"_

_But before he could finish the familiar whizzing sound of something cutting the air met his ears and his eyes widened in horror as he saw his lieutenant, the man he had looked up to, jerk in his steed as an arrow pierced his heart. With wide eyes, Lieutenant Randall fell from his steed. Free of rider, the horse bounded off._

"_LIEUTENANT RANDALL!" shouted Bard, but all around them, arrows went whizzing by, death carried through the air. "RETREAT! EVERYONE FALL BACK!" But they were stuck; those in the rear didn't know of the chaos and kept marching. Marching to their deaths. Caliph reared, throwing him off before galloping off after Lieutenant Randall's steed._

_Scrambling to his feet, he notched an arrow, aiming it for a nearby soldier above him. Letting it go, he watched as one of their numbers fell. This was the worst situation if possible. To be cornered. It didn't take long for their large battalion to become decimated. Pushing his back against the mountain side, he notched another arrow, felling another attacker. But the onslaught was just too great. His wards had thrown every arrow off course but he was getting tired._

_That was when he saw a tall figure with dark armor step out from the shadows, blades drawn. A loud roar nearly shattered his hearing. His mouth fell slightly open when a sapphire dragon dove from the clouds, breathing fire upon the troops. Within seconds the entire mountain pass around him was set aflame, the attackers yelling and screaming as they fell to the ground burning. The tall man, Bard saw, was busy hacking down the survivors._

_It took less than ten minutes for everything to settle and an eerie quietness settled over them. Moving slightly through the dead bodies, he stared about himself. Dead, they were all dead. Arrows protruded from bodies and swords pierced flesh during the confusion. Lieutenant Randall lay not far off from the head of the dead bodies, his eyes opened in surprise, caught off guard. "Rest in peace, sir." With that he slowly closed his eyes, staring at the man he had admired._

_What was he to do now? Return to the capital without his battalion? How was he going to explain to the higher in command what had happened during their mission? How he had managed to come out of it alive but everyone else had died tragically? The sound of boots crunching on the ground met his ears and he turned to find the armored man walking towards him, his blades sheathed away. "Who are you?" asked Bard._

"_Gabranth," said the figure. He turned his head side from side as if evaluating the damage. "A whole battalion destroyed and yet you lived throughout the onslaught. That is quite impressive."_

"_And yet you and your dragon slaughtered them all in a matter of minutes," countered Bard._

"_But what will you do now that your entire battalion is destroyed?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_Luck didn't help you survive this battle. It was skill and strength and if you don't know what to do with it anymore, then work for me."_

Bard jumped when the door to the kitchen flew open revealing Desdemona and Rosalie followed by an excited Finny. "You haven't started yet, Bard?" asked Rosalie incredulously. He shrugged.

"I don't know what his lordship would like; he doesn't eat meat, that's one delicacy off the table." He grumbled staring at the slab of meat before him. Then an idea clicked in his head.

Nearly an hour and a half later was he finally done and setting the banquet table for the occasion. Rosalie had pulled out their finest tea seat and silverware while Desdemona had decorated the halls with bouquets of beautiful follows and Finny stood to the side, bringing in food. Lord Gabranth came in with his mother and took the seat at the head of the table. Saphira was able to fit into the large space with ease and lay next to the banquet table.

Lord Gabranth, unlike his normal attire, wore a pale red tunic and black breeches. His brows rose when he took in the sight of the food before him. A variety of soups, mushroom to carrots, honey cakes, blueberry pies, and in the center a cake made in a semblance of Saphira. "Happy Birthday, Lord Gabranth!"

He didn't smile nor did he frown but rather he stared at all of them and their bright smiles and Bard could see, though it was just barely there, the light in his eyes. It was a rather eventful occasion. Desdemona and Rosalie fawned over him as usual, pouring bits of food onto his plate while serving Lady Selena. Finny was amusing Saphira by tossing chunks of meat at her for her to catch while Bard just sat there, pleased that his cooking come out well for once. This peace, he could get used to it.

**Did you all have fun reading it? I'm somewhat sorry for the little long wait. :) I don't have much of a note because I'm going to surprise you all with the next few chapters. :) And hopefully it'll be up soon! Review everyone, don't forget!**


	25. Chapter 21

**You all have the right to shoot me. I am beyond sorry that it took so long for this chapter to come up but I had some important things that I had to do in my life. And I just couldn't find the time to bust out my laptop to actually start typing this chapter. And thank god, it's finally up! I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter since it took ages for me to actually post it. Next one won't be so long. Hopefully. Anyways read and review!**

The weeks spent in Ellesméra went by with a somewhat painful but quick pace. The only thing he could remember clearly was the aching pain in his back caused by Durza. The wound that his father had given him had opened once again. The sun was low in the sky, signaling evening, and Oromis had put them hard at work. Eragon was off to the side studying a plant — one of Oromis's scrolls clutched in one hand— and Arya was beside, she too studying a plant and by the looks of it pointing out details for Eragon when needed, while Murtagh had to spar with Oromis. Despite his age, Murtagh, with his disabilities — his back and the fact that he was human — was no match for someone whose blood ran thick with magic. He was outmatched by Oromis as he was by Durza and Arya. And though he hated to even think of such things, he knew that even Eragon could best him. His younger brother. It tinted his thoughts with a color of shame.

Pulling back, he brought up Zar'roc in time to fend off an oncoming attack. Murtagh was thankful when Oromis lowered his sword. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he waited for his teacher's advice. "It seems that the point for us to cease exchanging blows has come." He stared at Oromis, not comprehending what he was trying to say. "I will have it arranged for you to spar every morning before you arrive here with another elf."

He frowned but felt somewhat relived that it was not with Eragon. Sheathing Zar'roc, he followed Oromis when he motioned towards the hut. As they were eating mushroom stew, the door opened and Arya walked in first, followed by Eragon. It may have sounded sound pathetic, but as much as Eragon didn't like him, he didn't like his younger brother in return. He might respect him but that was it. His life may have been unfair, even horrible. But that didn't mean everyone else lived happily. No, the knowledge that his father was Morzan had haunted him for most of his life and the thought that his mother had abandoned him had nearly torn his heart to pieces. And yet, Eragon was the given the chance to live with their mother. But he still made the most of it and that was where he and Eragon differed, Murtagh thought as he watched the two take their seats across from them.

It was during times like these that the awkwardness got the best of them. No one spoke and who did was Oromis. He asked questions of their lessons and their learning. And they would reply in a few sentences. Oromis nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, it seems as if you both are very well taught. More so than I could expect or hoped."

"And what does that mean?" asked Eragon.

"That I shall have to make up a test of sorts for the two of you." And it was during times like these that he felt insanely inferior. His lack of knowledge and power, his disability, had set him far lower than Arya and Eragon as a Rider. It was almost unfair. "But tomorrow, I would like you two to spend half an hour sparring with one another before you come here."

Murtagh frowned, even if he didn't have to spar Arya nor Eragon, they were going to see him fall to another elf, and the thought of it was shameful.

When he was alone in his tree, he glared at the only thing that was his inheritance from his father. Zar'roc. It was a childish and petty thought but he was sure that Eragon would rather live the way he did now than be reborn as the son of Morzan. At least he still had two parents who loved him. _You have Roran. _But he didn't even know where his cousin was. Sitting on his bed, he turned the green apple in his hands. It had been a tiring day. Learning, fighting, and practicing the Rigmar. And now he had the extra task of speaking only in the ancient language during his stay in Ellesméra. Life, Murtagh thought, wasn't getting any simpler.

A knock on his screen door disturbed his quiet. "Enter," he said, wondering if it was Arya. It was. She had visited him before to show him Ellesméra, and he was grateful that she had never thought to bring Eragon along with them.

Arya greeted Murtagh and Thorn, then said, "If you're not busy, I thought that you might appreciate an opportunity to visit Tialdari hall and the adjacent gardens, since you seem very interested in Ellesméra."

"We'd be delighted to see them," said Murtagh setting down his green apple. He didn't understand the odd look in her eyes when he placed the apple on his bedside table by Oromis's time piece. When all three of them descended from the tree, Arya directed them westward toward an unfamiliar quadrant in Ellesméra. They encountered many elves on the path, all of whom stopped to bow to Thorn and Eridor. He had to admit, the attention that they gave the dragons was unnerving.

Passing by a tree, he felt himself frown when emerald eyes traveled to the open teardrop, and just barely he could see a glint of sapphire. There was something between Arya and Eragon. Something that he couldn't understand. Just then, a shadow passed by and disappeared, no doubt Eragon. "He seems busy as of late."

Murtagh nodded. That was true, he had heard from Saphira that Eragon had spent most of his time reading up on scrolls and ancient texts, like he was looking for something but he couldn't find it. "I wouldn't know, he doesn't speak to me often," he said.

Arya nodded. At last they arrived at an archway which had permitted their entry due to Arya. A vast garden laid before them, filled with such a variety of plants that he found it difficult to think that they were only in one part of Alagaësia. Flameless lanterns gave light to the area.

She had showed them many interesting parts of the compound. The common room and hall, where they would stay if they were not Rider and Dragon, the gardens and each room that was available to the size of a dragon. Each room was different from one another, as if the elves considered the idea of being in the same room dull.

They saw many great works of art, from fairths to paintings, sculptures to mosaics with one motif in mind, the show plants and animals in their true beauty. Islanzadí met with them for a short time, inquiring about their training and the state of Murtagh's back, both of which he had politely answered. It had satisfied her for she left after exchanging a few words with Saphira and Arya.

In the end they had returned to the gardens, Murtagh listening intently as Arya explained to him about the different types of flowers that were grown and nourished with the energy from magic. "Is there one in particular that you like?" he asked.

She smiled and led him to a tree on the edge of the garden, where a patch of black morning glories were coiled around the tree's lowest branch. She blew on them, saying in the Ancient Language, "Open."

The petals rustled as they unfurled. It was a beautiful flower, Murtagh thought. It matched her personality quite well. A black morning glory. The name even resembled her somewhat. And the fact that she dressed in all black outside of Du Weldenvarden didn't seem like a coincidence. She was the black glory that would bloom for those whom she was willing to, he thought. But he didn't voice it to her. Their friendship didn't seem deep enough for him to get to speak freely to her.

"Is it not the most perfect and lovely flower?" asked Arya.

Murtagh gazed at her and at the flower. "It is." He didn't say this to please her nor to curry favor but he truly thought that it was indeed a beautiful flower. He glanced at her once again, wondering . . .

"Is something troubling you?"

Murtagh shook his head. "No," and as casually as he could, "Has Eragon been here yet?"

Arya stared at him, the smile on her face dimming somewhat. "He hasn't." she said. "When I asked him, he was busy with research of some sort. Was there something in particular that you wanted to know?"

He shook his head. "Not really." Research . . . . Again, the thought rushed through his mind. What was it that his brother was searching for and yet not asking for help with, not reaching out for it? "He hasn't seemed like himself lately."

She raised a brow, and he fought for words to continue. How could he say it when he didn't understand himself? And he could remember a lesson that was taught to him by Uncle Garrow. Never make assumptions when one didn't understand things by the surface of their nature. "It seems as if he's on edge . . . . He looks somewhat sickly sometimes."

The smile on her face disappeared altogether. _We should leave it at that, Murtagh. There's no need to worry Arya anymore, _said Thorn. He nodded. After he had told her and Eridor, they both wished the two of them goodnight.

_What were you thinking? _asked Thorn.

He shrugged. _Arya seems to be the only person within the whole of Du Weldenvarden to know Eragon well enough to be called his friend. I was just pondering the thought of whether or not she knew what it was that ails him._

_Ails? How can you be so sure that he is sick?_

_It's a feeling, I know it sounds pathetic, but every time I see him, he seems to be less and less himself by the day. Don't you see it?_

_I don't._

He frowned. Was he the only one who saw his brother's sickness? His slow change in attitude? He could remember clearly one day when they were studying the lives of ants when his brother had slumped forward without warning, a hand reaching for his eye. Was he half blind? But that idea didn't make sense either.

_You shouldn't worry yourself with it, Murtagh. He will tell Arya or Oromis eventually._

But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to stop. Something was wrong with Eragon. The same thought floated through his head when he closed his eyes to let sleep take him, the only moment within time where he could finally rest.

But morning came all too soon.

He and Thorn were waiting by the tree for a few minutes before they were met by a solemn dark haired elf, and by the looks of him, Murtagh knew that things weren't going to go as smoothly as he had half hoped. The elf bowed and touched his fingers to his lips-a gesture Murtagh mirrored. "May good fortune rule over you."

"And may the stars watch over you," replied Murtagh. "Are you the elf in which Oromis had sent to spar with me?"

But he received no answer, instead, the elf turned to greet Thorn and he felt a scowl turn over on his features. It was hard to be polite sometimes, Murtagh thought. He wished that he had his brother's capacity for indifference and ability to ignore everything with ease. He was, as Oromis liked to put it, 'hot-blooded' and liked to act on emotions.

" . . . I am Vanir of House Haldthin."

_Well met Vanir._

Only then did the elf address Murtagh. "I shall show you to the sparring grounds where you may practice with your blade." His eyes flickered to Zar'roc with an expression akin to distaste.

When they had arrived within the sparring grounds he felt his heart drop. It was dotted with elves of both sexes fighting in pairs and groups. Their gift for extraordinary strength and speed resulted in clashes of swords that resounded like someone hammering an anvil. To the side, he could see Arya and Eragon ferociously clashing at a level he knew he might never be able to achieve with his disability. There was no doubt he was going to make a fool of himself.

As everyone had stopped and bowed to Thorn, he watched as the large red dragon settled next to Saphira and Eridor, who were both watching the proceedings with interested eyes. Murtagh took his position opposite Vanir and unsheathed Zar'roc. _I'm just going to be humiliated, _Murtagh thought, as he eyed the inhuman swordsmanship about him, watching as Eragon easily dodged from Arya's always moving blade with such ease, it was as if he bend without the restraint of gravity.

Usually he would have fought with everything he had in him, but the thought of humiliation weighed him down. He dodged and fought at a distance from Vanir, trying not to trigger a fit he had been having all so much. But despite that, Vanir had managed to hit him with ease. And every time he did so, his expression began to change from emotionlessness to open contempt. Moving to the side, Vanir brought his sword forward, smashing it out of Murtagh's hand with ease. He watched as the red blade went flying.

With ease as if he was just going on a stroll, Vanir dropped his sword on Murtagh's neck. "Dead." He shrugged it off and went to retrieve Zar'roc. "I had expected better seeing how your father was Morzan, but it seems that you are just like the rest of your race, a weakling human."

"Don't speak of things you don't know of," said Murtagh coldly, his anger getting the better of him. "As I recall you've stayed hidden within Du Weldenvarden while others fought at Farthen Dûr."

Vanir stiffened with rage. "We weren't aware of such circumstances that had fallen upon the Varden. I am not a coward, human."

And just like that, he was beginning to dislike Vanir more and more. No one moved or spoke on the field and Murtagh tried his best to avoid his brother's presence. Surly he was laughing at him now. The sight of him, a Rider, being ridiculed by an elf was shameful.

"Coward, I say, your blood is as thin as the rest of your race. I think that Thorn was confused by Galbatorix's wiles and made the wrong choice of Rider." Murtagh gripped his sword, whirling about in a fit of rage, Zar'roc flashing as he charged at Vanir, ignoring the gasps of the spectating elves.

He should have known better, rage had clouded his vision and before he it even occurred to him, he was on his back covered in dirt, Zar'roc lying a few feet away from him. "Weakling. A worthless rider." Vanir's taunting words reaching his ears.

The sound of crunching grass reached his ears and he saw a hand reach out to grasp the hilt to Zar'roc. The red blade was lifted easily from the ground. But who had reached for his sword, he didn't know.

"You have no right to look down on people." Murtagh's blood chilled when he heard Eragon's cold and harsh words.

"And you have no right to interfere in such." Vanir replied. Struggling to sit up, he could see Eragon's stiff back facing him, Zar'roc gleaming in his right hand. "Your brother may be a weakling but you're no different either, considering the fact that you've been overseen by Galbatorix."

And within that instant, he was bounding for Vanir with such rage, it was hard to believe that it was his calm and usually stolid brother. "DON'T YOU LOOK DOWN ON OTHERS!" he repeated, this time the phrase coming out as a yell of rage.

He turned his head to glance at Arya; wasn't she going to help? But when he caught sight of the elven princess, he found her rooted to the spot as if struggling to make a decision. "HOW COULD YOU DISCRIMINATE WHEN HIS WEAKNESS IS FOR BEING WHAT HE IS? HUMAN? DON'T MAKE ME LAUGH!"

He could just make out that Eragon was dangerously close to actually injuring Vanir, who was trying to dodge his heavy blows. But just barely. "HE'S TRYING HIS BEST AND ALL YOU CAN DO IS RIDICULE HIM! BUT I GUESS IF HE DIES YOU COULD'NT CARE LESS SINCE THERE ARE STILL TWO OPTIONS AVAILABLE TO YOU!"

He slammed Vanir's sword out of his hand, bring Zar'roc upwards in an arch, before it was deflected as Arya finally decided to intervene. But he could tell from the look on her face that she was shocked at his outburst.

They stared at each other indefinitely before Eragon turned and made for Murtagh, who felt a slight trickle of fear, but the sight of his pale and drawn face made him somewhat worried. With unnatural strength, Eragon bent down gripping the front of Murtagh's tunic and pulled him to his feet. He drove Zar'roc into the ground between them and said harshly, "Don't you ever bow to people like him. It's a disgrace."

With that he let go and without a word to anyone left the quiet field with Saphira following him from above in the air. When they were gone, murmurs and whispers began to break through around them. The elves didn't seem to like Eragon's loss of control over his emotions, but it was bound to happen; he was going to snap eventually.

But the most affected was Arya; she seemed at a loss for words about what happened. And he could share that confusion with her without problem. Murtagh was still in shock that his brother would stand in his defense. He winced mentally though when he thought of how Islanzadí was going to think of such a violent act.

Gripping Zar'roc he had a hard time pulling it from the ground. A hand shot out and grasped the hilt, pulling it for him. He found himself staring at Arya's worried green eyes as she held his sword out for him to take. "Thank you."

She nodded before motioning him to sheath his sword. "I think that would be enough for today. We should go and see Master Oromis."

Murtagh agreed, wondering if Eragon was going to be there or not.

**What did you all think? Good, bad, iffy? My next chapter will be more suspenseful and I think I'm going to try to work to POVs in it but honestly, I don't like to do that in just a chapter. Usually when I write POVs I make sure that they last the entire chapter, I just don't like switching in between. But besides that, review and hopefully my next chapter shall be posted! :)**


	26. Chapter 22

**Back again! And I hope I didn't have you all waiting that long! I'll keep this note short and simple so you may all get reading as fast as you possibly can! :)**

He did not return to his tree, nor did he leave for Oromis's lessons. The only thought in his head when he left the sparring field was to get as far away from Ellesméra and its inhabitants as possible. And he had no problem with that resolve.

Direction was lost on him, but he couldn't care less as his feet brought him away from the elven capital. He was sick of it all. Sick of the insidious politeness. Sick of the kind guise that the elves hid behind. And that was why, he thought a half an hour later by a small bank far from Ellesméra, why he somewhat liked Vanir. It was somewhat an oxymoron. He hated the elf but yet was somewhat happy at the fact that he was one of the few who didn't hide his contempt.

Reaching out to touch the surface of the clear water, the sight of his hands shaking made didn't escape his notice. Fear. He hated the feeling. But it was impossible to escape its icy grips. Back then on the field, he hadn't meant to snap like such. Eragon was not one to lose his composure in front of others.

But . . . .

Splashing his face with the cool water from the river, he sighed. His vision gazed back at him from the mirrored surface of the water. Thinking back on it, when those words escaped Vanir's mouth, he had wanted to break the elf's jaw. He disliked watching others look down on people. But it was something else, seeing Murtagh thrown off his feet and landing on his back in the dirt made him furious. He may not like his brother, but he didn't want to see him ridiculed by what he was nor his disability.

He had thought that he might have a word or two with Vanir, but it was different. The time he was standing on the field watching the scene unfold before his eyes, a deep anger was building up in him. And it snapped when Vanir had treated Murtagh so, but that wasn't what scared him. When Murtagh landed on the ground, it was as if someone had drawn him from his body and took control of his limbs, bending it to their will.

His time was running out. And all those restless hours he had spent searching through the ancient scrolls that belonged to the library of Ellesméra and Oromis's scrolls were going to be wasted. Saphira, who was curled in on herself, gently nudged him with her snout. _Why don't you ask Oromis for help?_

_No._ He wouldn't be able to understand Eragon's current situation. And he didn't want Islanzadí drawn into it either. Not to mention that if he went out with this secret, he would have to tell them everything else as well.

_Stop being stubborn, Eragon. This is more than pride we're talking about now. Your life could be at risk. _He could hear the worry underlining her voice and knew that if he didn't tell Oromis than she would.

But he didn't want ask for help. That would mean he was no different than the child who cried in that dark cell all of those years ago. But was it good to be strong? Was it wrong to be weak? Always the same questions, never any answers. He stared at his reflection once more, dripping with water, before leaving the river bank.

Leaning back against Saphira's side, he tiredly closed his eyes. He wasn't in the mood to leave for Oromis's lessons; he didn't want to apologize nor be reprimanded for what he had done at the practice field. But he couldn't just run away forever from the oncoming confrontation with Oromis and Islanzadí.

He forced the thought out of his head and tried to let the calming forest relax his stressed mind and body. Eventually the lull of sleep had consumed him.

_It was as if he was looking down upon a bloodied scene in which he couldn't quite clearly make out the people. But their height and statures looked oddly familiar to him. The land was a clear field in which a horde of soldiers fought. One group was much smaller than the other. He could see beyond the fighting a river._

_Despite the fact that the battle was raging furiously by the opposing soldiers, another battle was being fought not far off from the group in which shrill laughter was echoing through the air. It was a small battle, in which only a few people fought. A tall man was ferociously attacking his opponents. But no matter how much he battered them away, they rose to weather the onslaught._

_He couldn't distinguish who the enemy was, but he watched as the man seemed to fight internally fight himself. On the battlefield, distractions cost one their life. A sword came flying from one of the fighter's ready hands, a female by the look of it, and plunged itself into his torso, the force of it causing him to fall._

_The four of them had won and he watched as a tall figure went to kneel besides the fallen one, bending as if trying to whisper consoling words to him. But why would they want to comfort their dying enemy? As the vision began to fade away, he glimpsed the sight of an iridescent red sword, gleaming with blood as it stayed deep within the man's chest._

A knock interrupted startled him. Knock? Who would knock when he was out in the open? But as he blinked, he found himself lying face first on his bed. _I brought you back; sleeping sitting up isn't a comfortable way to sleep._

He groaned. _Thank you, Saphira._

_You're welcome, but I think you should let Arya in._

Not moving from his position on his bed, he called for her to enter and she did. Her dragon, Eridor flew in through the teardrop opening. He watched her expression as she took in his messy chambers. Scrolls and ancient texts littered the table by the entrance and frustrated crumpled bits of paper were strewn on the floor. She looked concerned.

"Pardon my lack of organization," he mumbled, his face still burrowed within his pillow, muffling his voice. He felt a dip in the side of his bed signaling her sitting down beside him.

"How are you feeling, Eragon?"

"Tired." He admitted, reluctantly turning his face to stare up at her. Maybe it was his lack of clarity or the fact that he had just woken but her beauty somewhat dazed him for a moment. Only for a moment. "Is the lesson over?"

She nodded and he sighed again. Rolling over onto his back, he sat up tiredly rubbing a hand over his face and through his messy brown hair. "If you don't mind, would you like to accompany me on a tour of my ancestral home?"

He stared at her, remembering the time when she had asked him a week ago but he had been so wound up with research and couldn't find the time to join her. Seeing as he wasn't going to get anything research done in his state, he nodded and threw his leg over the bed, rising to his feet. He grinned when he found his sword tossed recklessly upon the ground. How Saphira managed to remove them from his hip he would never know.

She huffed. _It took a lot of work not to tear the flesh from your skin._

He chuckled as he and Arya made their way down the stairs and onto the ground. "Vanir spoke harshly this morning." She said, glancing at him from the side. He sighed.

"But my reaction was uncalled for, I -" he didn't know how to explain it to her. Or whether or not he should explain it to her. The stopped before a hall and despite her expression, she opened the way for them to enter Tialdari hall. It was a beautiful place.

As she presented to him the different rooms, he watched her expression and the longing on her face as she described the home of her family to Eragon. It must have its toll on her when she was unable to reside in her family home with Eridor now. "And this is my chamber."

He hesitantly stepped inside; two fairths decorated the wall of the spacious vine covered living room. One of a stern, proud elf with silver hair, whom he assumed to be her father and the other of a younger male elf whom he didn't recognize. But the small suspicion of that being Fäolin or Glenwing didn't escape his notice. For some unfathomable reason, he felt a tint of a strange rage in his heart. Turning from the wall, he made a quick tour of her apartment, glancing inside her small bedroom and study. "It's beautiful," he said sincerely as they made way back to the gardens.

She favored him a smile.

The garden, he thought, was a place in which every flower and plant resided. He listened as she explained them to him, nodding and storing some new knowledge in the back of his mind. "Which one is your favorite?" she asked him.

Without hesitation, he pointed to a patch of white roses, and for some unknown reason, her expression shone with shock. It was gone within a second. He fingered the white petals softly. "And yours?"

She pointed to a patch of Black Morning Glories and he nodded. "They're beautiful," he said for the second time that day. He glanced up as the light from the flameless lanterns began to grow brightly as night settled over the garden. It was getting late. He was about to voice it, when Arya spoke.

"You've yet to fully explain yourself about what had happened this morning, Eragon." He refused to meet her eyes as they stood there in silence, their dragons remaining silent as they watched the two of them and their odd relationship.

"I acted on impulse," he said eventually. That was all he could say, for the ancient language restricted any further speech.

She nodded. They stood there together before Arya spoke again. "What is it that you're searching for, Eragon? You've been busy of late searching through texts and scrolls. Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"It's getting late—" he made to turn but her hand shot out and gripped his wrist, tightly. He felt slightly startled when she pulled him to face her, their faces inches apart. Her eyes, he thought, were the only sign of age in her. Deep and knowing. He blinked uncomfortably, refusing to stare at her head on.

"What is it, Eragon?" Arya whispered.

"Answers." That was the least he could say. Her brows slanted dangerously, and her lips parted but before another word escaped her, an imperious voice broke through their mist. He watched as Arya slowly unwrapped her hand from his wrist, frustrated at their interruption.

The both of them turned to find Islanzadí make her way towards them, her cloak billowing about her slender frame. "Saphira, Eridor." Islanzadí acknowledges before turning to face them. "And what is it that you two are heatedly discussing with one another?"

"Nothing, Mother," said Arya and he could somewhat see that she was crossed.

Islanzadí raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Arya Svit-Kona speaks the truth." He watched as mother and daughter stared at one another. It would be a fine time to leave now. Voicing it, he watched as Islanzadí nodded.

"I shall see him off, Mother," said Arya, motioning for him to follow her. He did so, feeling piercing eyes on his back. When they were at the entrance, he turned to her.

"I thank you for showing me your home, I've enjoyed it," he said. Despite what had just transpired, she nodded. A faint smile on her face as the moon illuminated her appearance in a pale light.

"And I enjoyed showing it to you. Goodnight, Eragon." He nodded, watching as the doors began to close and the last thing he could glimpse before it closed all the way was her green eyes, glowing brightly in the dark. _Oh, stop standing there and climb on._

He did and as Saphira took flight, couldn't help but turn to stare at the disappearing compound. The time he spent with Arya was very enjoyable but it was somewhat flawed with the appearance of her mother. _She doesn't like the two of you together._

_I can see that._

Jumping from Saphira's back, he passed by his table without chancing a glance at it. Arya must have stayed behind to speak to her Mother. Unlacing his boots and laying his swords on his bedside table, he sighed. If his time did actually run out, what was going to happen to him and the people he cared for? He could only grudgingly admit it but he had started to grow a feeling for Arya, a tender care.

Not willing to deal with Saphira's knowing thoughts and his own forming migraine he crawled into bed without hesitation and thankfully fell asleep. The following morning, he found himself standing resolutely by the base of his tree waiting pondering whether or not to continue sparring with Arya. He was in the middle of deciding when she walked up to him. Eridor must have been at the practice field training with Thorn in the air.

"Good morning," she said, after they performed the usual greeting.

He nodded. "And to you as well."

"Are you not coming to the field today?"

He frowned. "I didn't think it would be such a brilliant idea." He admitted.

"Nonsense." And like that, he ended up following her to the field. As they came into view with the sparring elves, he ignored how they seemed to have stopped to look at him before turning to face Arya. He didn't like the feeling of this.

To the side he glimpsed Murtagh and Vanir sparring. Trying not to pay attention to them, he unsheathed one of his swords and brought it before him, the tip pointing to the sky as he angled it before his torso. Like how they would usually start their duels, one would blink and the other would follow, signaling the spar's beginning.

Arya was getting better, Eragon thought, as he sidestepped a rather dangerous blow to his head. It took almost a full hour to batter her into defeat. A sharp nip on his head startled him; he was getting distracted. He tried not to throw himself fully into the fight, afraid of triggering another episode like yesterday. Blocking a blow from her, he pulled back ready to turn the tables before his mind flashed once more.

_This white void again._

_The weight of the chains held him bound to the same spot, struggling to get free. And he watched as the crypt before him burst open, a strong violet aura bursting forth, followed by a cold laughter._

_His body wasn't responding to him anymore. "Damn it!" What was happening? Was he going out of control? Pulling against his chains, he grunted when they ended up squeezing him tighter. "Let me go!"_

_But the more he tugged, the more constricted the binds became. Trying to control his panic, he took a deep breath before letting it out. Think, Eragon, think. They were in trouble, Murtagh and Arya and everyone else on the field._

_He gave another painful tug._

Everything came rolling back into sight. The field, his sword, everything. But the only difference was that the silver blade was dyed red. He glanced at it in horror and turned to see who he had injured. Immediately, his heart plummeted to the ground when he caught sight of long hair and pained emerald eyes.

He had nicked her on the side of her head and had injured her along her shoulder quiet roughly, her leg looked oddly supported. The sight of her blood shocked him. Eragon was too stunned to dodge a fist flying for his face. Stumbling slightly he turned to find an enraged Murtagh. "WERE YOU TRYING TO KILL ARYA?"

"No—I—" The words for explanation had escaped him. This was the end for him in Ellesméra.

"THEN WHAT WERE YOU TRYING TO DO?"

His hands shook slightly and he felt a pale sheen of sweat cover his body and face. Everything was wrong. And he was wrong as well. Nothing was going to be able to fix it. How could he apologize to the one person who had been all but a friend to him?

The elves were slowly closing in on him, their swords raised. Panic, that was all he felt. Ignoring Saphira's thoughts in his mind, he swung his sword towards one of the elves causing them to break formation and that break was enough. Rushing forward, he bounded off from the field. He wasn't going to turn back anymore. Refusing to look behind him, he veered west, taking the shortest path out of Du Weldenvarden.

He didn't care anymore; he had to leave this place once and for all. There was nothing left for him to do within Ellesméra. They wouldn't understand if he explained it to them. Knowing that Saphira was following him from above, he kept running through the forest. Weaving in and out of the trees. Eventually when the branches began to become more spaced out, Saphira dove forward, gripping his tunic with her teeth, and threw him against a tree. _That's enough running, Eragon!_

_I don't—I don't know what's becoming of me, Saphira, _he thought with fear and panic that was uncharacteristic of him.

_We have to go back; we have to speak to Oromis._

_No! _He glared at her. _After what I've done to Arya, how can we go back now? They wouldn't accept us!_

_I'm not going to let you die out here without seeking aid!_

_And I'm not returning to Ellesméra! Would you rather I die by blade there instead? _Gripping his hair, he glared at his sword that was painted with red blood and furiously kicked it to the side. He was dangerous. And he had just attacked the only person to act kindly to him outside the borders of the Empire.

**What did you all think? Good, bad? Please review, I love reading your thoughts. And I know that the story is going at a somewhat slow pace but I'm working up to the climax. Any questions or suggestions, review or for those who like to message me, you can. I'll see you at the next chapter in which I hope I'm not too slow on updating.**


	27. Chapter 23

**I am beyond sorry! And this time I have no excuses whatsoever. Although I love to write fanfictions, I like to read new books every once in a blue moon. Have any of you heard or read the Hunger Games trilogy? Let me tell, they are addicting! I spend almost all of my free time these past weeks reading them. Hence the slow update. Don't worry though, it doesn't happen often that I find a GOOD book. Besides, this chapter was hard to write. I had it planned out but when I typed it, it didn't read right sometimes. Anyways, since you've all waited so long go ahead and read!**

Relacing her boots over the still sensitive but healed skin, Arya tried not to let the incident that morning bother her. But it did. Fear. That was what she felt. It was pointless not to deny it. But she didn't fear for herself as much as she had feared for Eragon. Something was changing him. And whatever it was estranged him from herself and the world beyond from all except Saphira. But why hadn't the sapphire blue dragon stepped in to help her Rider? Why? She jumped somewhat when Eridor's snout gently rubbed her upper arm.

_You're worried._

_Of course, I am. _Arya replied, standing. Not only did Eragon attack a fellow rider, his standings had been dropped within Du Weldenvarden. Her mother would not be pleased to hear of such tidings. No doubt she had already heard it. And the knowledge evaded her of whether or not Gilderien the Wise had decided to punish him. _Why is life so complicated?_

_I didn't know that you like to bemoan your fate, _said Eridor.

He was right. She was an elf. A princess. And a Rider. There was no time to act petty and wish for a better fortune. Just the idea of it made her slightly embarrassed. It was no doubt that she was spending too much time with Eragon and Murtagh. Checking her recently healed shoulder, she sighed. They had dulled their blades before the battle, but he had attacked with such ferocity that it had managed to break the skin. Her green eyes wandered over to Eridor's large bulk. _It's surprising that you would just sit by and enjoy the unfolding of events._

He shifted on the ground of the field, uncomfortably. _Saphira spoke to me._

But when he refused to say anymore, she abandoned the thought of prying. Whatever it was, Saphira or Eragon would tell her in due time. "How are you, Arya?"

"Fine," she replied, as she lifted her head to take in the image of Murtagh standing before her. The way he looked at her made a slight trickle of anger run through her. Arya was not weak, and she didn't need him to worry over her. But such thoughts shouldn't be voiced. Her eyes drifted to his hand in which he had swung at his brother with such force the skin looked somewhat bruised. Fighting the instinct to purse her lips, she finished with the tie on her left boot and stood.

Her ankle supported her weight. Good. "It's nothing that magic can't heal," she said when she caught Murtagh's eyes traveling to her leg to her shoulder and finally to the side of her head. Arya glanced upwards; the sun was already high in the sky. "Master Oromis should be waiting for us."

Murtagh nodded. Arya glanced towards Eridor, he was still somewhat a fresh learner at flying and she didn't want to weigh him down with her weight. With all the grace she had possessed since birth, she slid onto the saddle behind Murtagh. But instead, before her with a mess of brown hair and broad shoulders, too broad to be elven was Eragon. She blinked. Today was not her day. _I would say so._

That made her slightly more irritated.

Just slightly.

"Eragon…" she turned to focus her attention on Murtagh, her irritation at Eridor pushed to the back of her mind. "Do you think he's sick?" It was the same question he had asked her earlier.

"I wouldn't know."

Murtagh nodded as if deep in thought and unlike his younger brother, she could easily see the conflicting emotions in his eyes. At least he was easier to decipher. Predictable like most humans she'd met within her seventy years outside of Du Weldenvarden. The rest of the flight was quiet with both of them deep in thought.

Air came rushing at her face as Thorn descended to the ground, and she wasn't surprised that Oromis and Glaedr were waiting from them outside of the hut. The solemn expression on Oromis's aged face was not a pleasant sign. There was no doubt of that. Sliding onto the ground, she greeted her teacher, waiting as Murtagh did the same.

It didn't elude her how Oromis's eyes were searching her body for any form of injuries. "I've heard about Eragon," he said quietly. Instead of revulsion, his eyes were clouded with concern. A kindness. She could imagine Eragon's reaction to such an act.

"Has Gilderien the Wise—?"

"No, I've ask for him to refrain on my behalf."

Arya nodded. One worry out of the way. "And Queen Islanzadí?"

"She has been informed and will not act for the meantime. I've asked for jurisdiction seeing as this involves my students." Another worry out of the way for the mean time. "But I need your help, Arya."

She nodded, indicating for him to continue. "I need you to bring Eragon back to Ellesméra."

Surprised coursed through her body. Her? Under what reason? Why not Murtagh? He had more rights than her to bringing back Eragon. They were blood related. But for some reason, if Oromis wanted her to do it she would. Murtagh, however, had refused.

"Thorn and I should go—"

"And miss your training?" Oromis said with a raised eyebrow. "I've thought this out thoroughly. Only Arya can go, she has every capability of doing so. With your back, Murtagh, there is no chance that you can bring Eragon back here."

"I can do it!" he insisted.

Oromis rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefingers. "Your rash behavior will not do us any good Murtagh. Let Arya handle this."

"He is my younger brother!"

"And if you claim to care for him in any sort of way, do not let your emotions hinder what little time we have left!" Arya blinked slightly surprised at the small edge in Oromis's voice. She watched as he left for his hut before returning with a saddle for Eridor. "Do you remember how to properly adjust a saddle, Arya?"

"I do." As if she would ever forget. With nimble fingers the two of them slipped the brown leather over Eridor's shoulders before tightening the knots and slips.

"You should gather provision. Saphira is an agile flyer; it'll take a while for Eridor to catch up to her." Oromis instructed. She nodded. "And Arya." She waited for her teacher to continue. "Don't give up hope."

_I know, _she thought, but she didn't voice it. Sliding into the saddle, she slipped her leg through the straps. This would be the first time that she and Eridor would fly together. Excitement had bubbled in her despite their current situation. And she could tell that he was feeling the same as well. _This is—_

_The first flight of many to come, _Eridor finished. She nodded. Pushing off on his hind legs, she watched as velvet emerald wing unfurled bringing air underneath them, pushing them into the sky. Despite her weight, Eridor's smooth flying didn't seem affected. His training with Glaedr must have been building up towards this moment.

_We need to go to Tialdari Hall._

_Of course. _Eridor slightly turned to the west and angling his body towards the ground, he sailed into a smooth landing into the gardens of her ancestral home.

_Wait here. _Turning to find her chambers, she halted for a second to see a white rose. Ignoring it, Arya left for her chambers. Grabbing her bow and arrows that she had stored away, her next stop was the kitchens. There she had the elves bring her fresh fruits and vegetables. Adjusting the pack on her shoulder as she walked back to the gardens, her brows slanted when she caught sight of her mother standing by Eridor and waiting for her.

When Islanzadí caught sight of Arya, she turned and the resemblance between mother and daughter could be seen. Her expression was in that of a frown. "Mother," Arya said stiffly.

"Arya." She replied. Her eyes flickered to the pack on her back. "And where is it that you are going?"

"To find Eragon."

Her brows slanted into a dangerous V and Arya could see that she was not pleased at the sight of her daughter running after Eragon. "You will not. I will not—"

"Allow it?" Arya supplied. "If you remembered Mother, I did not need your consent for the Yawë tattoo seventy years ago and I will not need it now to tell me whom I should associate myself with."

"You are making a mistake," Islanzadí whispered. She stopped as she strapped the pack onto Eridor's saddle. Arya was glad that Eridor had decided to stay put during this heated argument.

"You are making a mistake in letting Eragon go. We need him as an ally, Mother."

"And if he betrays us?" questioned Islanzadí. It was a thought that Arya had pondered on countless occasions. The fragile alliance they had with Eragon bordered only on trust. And it was proven time and time again that trusting in him was enough. Even if it is only for the meantime.

"I trust him. As should you, Mother," said Arya. Finally done with trying the pack onto the saddle she was about to slip onto Eridor's shoulders before her mother grabbed her by the wrist.

"Do not be a fool! You could be flying to your deaths. Do not think I do not know about what has happened this morning!" said Islanzadí. "If he has the audacity to attack you within your own homeland, he cannot be trusted."

"He is sick," Arya defended, feeling slightly angered at her Mother.

"He is dangerous."

"We all are," said Arya. "And I can defend myself."

"You are not going." She frowned at her mother. Her determination at keeping Arya from leaving Ellesméra was understandable. But she had to, if she wanted any chance in keeping Eragon within Du Weldenvarden. A chance at trying to save him from the illness that seemed to poisoning his person.

"I'm sorry." Avoiding the thunderous and somewhat hurt expression on her mother's face, she tugged her arm away from her mother's grip and jumped onto Eridor's shoulders. Without hesitation, he rose to the air, pushing into the sky with his powerful wings.

_That was rather eventful._

She nodded. _It was. _After a moments silence, she spoke again this time focusing on the topic at hand. _Fly to Eragon's tree._

_For what?_

_Answers. _He consented and within moments they were landing in Eragon's bedroom. She wasn't surprised to find it void of any living thing. It was still in the mess that he had left it when she had last visited him. Crumbled parchment lay strewn across the floor, scrolls not rolled shut, books laid open, and others were stacked to a precarious height.

_He has no sense of order._ She thought as she bent down to pick up a piece of parchment. Trying to straighten it out, her eyes were met with a text of the ancient language. _A spell? _There was no explanation for the strange word choice that varied from parchment to parchment. But there was one word that caught her eyes repeatedly. _Soul._Abandoning the parchment, Arya let her eyes skim over an open scroll.

A picture of a fully drawn body and an explanation of the nerves and organs. The next one was the documentations of an ancient seal. But there was a scroll that seemed to belong to Eragon entirely. His handwriting was inked onto it. A sketch of the body and besides it was points and details of some of the nerves. Further down was a symbol of sorts, and repeatedly written next to it was _soul._

_Could it be something important?_ Eridor asked, seeing what she was through their connection. She nodded. There was so much research written on the scroll, how many sleepless nights had he spent on it? "The heart is the source . . ." And that was the last that was written on the scroll.

_What are you trying to do, Eragon? _Moving about his chambers, she stumbled slightly when her foot hit something. It was a bag of some sorts. Opening it, she was met with a black helm. Arya pulled it out and studied Eragon's armor. She could remember clearly the first time that she had seen him in it. In her mind, she had thought she had seen a monster, more vicious and sadistic than Durza. Instead, she was proven wrong when he had untied her and treated her in his quarters.

As she stared at the horns of his helm something seemed to click in her mind. _You think so?_

_I'm sure of it. _Arya replied placing the helm back in the bag. Returning to Eridor's side, she slipped back onto his shoulders. _Head west, after Eragon and Saphira. _With that, he flew from the opening of the tree and veered in the direction she had instructed. The sky was clear and devoid of any figure; it hadn't been long since Eragon had left. But evening was starting to descend. The two of them began to get ready to rest for the day.

Keeping her mind open, it was near impossible to try and see through the thick forest. He couldn't have gone far, Arya thought. As they flew, she tried not to think of what might come about when they came face to face again. The friendship they had would be strained by whatever had transpired that morning. When the sky had darkened to a pitch black she was about to tell Eridor to land before a familiar mind reached out to touch hers.

_Saphira._

Letting the dragon access her mind, she was surprised as worry flooded through their connection. _Arya, you and Eridor need to land._

_Has something gone amiss? _Arya asked.

_Eragon is sick. _Sick? It had confirmed her worst free, he was sick and must have been for a while for it to take its toll on him.

_Where are you?_

An image of a clear stream in a small clearing appeared and she felt Eridor dip forward as he took in the image projected in their minds. Trying not to shut her eyes as the wind rushed pass, she felt her eyes sting. Letting his wings flare out from his sides, Eridor came to a steady landing. Vaulting off of him, she went to find Eragon to see him bent over the stream, retching furiously. _He began to sick when we were traveling. I wanted to take him to Oromis but he refused._

Walking over to him, she knelt beside him and rubbed his back soothingly. But when her hand touched him, he jerked away from her, barely gasping. "Don't."

She frowned and came close, very close to glaring at him. Was it pride or something of a much sensitive nature? "We can discuss what happened later on. Are you hungry?" asked Arya. After a minute or so, he nodded.

Moving to untie her pack from the saddle, she pulled out a wineskin for him to wash his mouth with and gave him an arrangement of various fruits. He took only a few bites of a pear before setting it down. And that was when she knew how sick he truly was. If he was unable to eat probably, he must not be feeling well enough to do anything. Arya watched as he leant against a tree trunk tiredly.

Without hesitation she went to feel his forehead. Ice cold. "Are you feeling well?"

He cracked an eye open. "Are you asking me whether I'm on the verge of dying from a disastrous cold?"

Sarcasm. Another reason why Eragon had intrigued her so much. Usually the response that she would receive from humans was nervousness and respect. He obviously lacked those. "If you can make jokes then you're not as sick as I thought you were," she said, somewhat crossly. One reason why she didn't like to be around Eragon at times was that he could easily draw out her anger with a few choices of words.

But he didn't seem to be listening to her; instead he seemed to be trying to draw warmth from her hand that lay across his forehead. His pale exterior seemed to grow even more prominent. "Eragon, at least drink some water."

"I can't keep anything down," he murmured. A sharp intake of breath made her focus on him. Was he injured? But as she searched his frame, he was clear of anything serious except for some questionable bruises.

"What is it?" asked Arya, concerned. But he just shook his head. "Eragon, what's wrong?"

"Why did you come?" he asked ignoring her question.

"To bring you back to Ellesméra." This one time, she could afford to be truthful to him. He nodded, closing his eyes again. Noticing the slight shivers that seemed to course through his body, she moved him closer to Saphira, hoping that the heat from her would be enough to warm him.

But it wasn't. Even when she had lit a fire, it wasn't enough to warm him still. In the end, she had to resort to body heat. Moving him so he sat next to her against Saphira's foreleg, she gingerly moved his head to rest against her shoulder. Seemingly feeling warmth, he inched closer to her.

The night was quiet. Everything was peaceful except for the shallow breaths that Eragon seem to take during his sleep. He looked so peaceful and sickly that it was hard to imagine him and Gabranth being one and the same. Trying not to worry over his clammy hands, Arya thought that the only way to get him cured was to bring him back to Oromis.

But as she was considering how to bring Eragon back to Ellesméra, a strangled whisper broke through her train of thought. She had thought he was asleep since he was silent for over thirty minutes, but she was wrong as his quiet voice pierced through the night and through her mind. "I'm sorry."

**Good chapter? Don't forget to review! And seeing as we're close to the 400 mark range, I'm going to have to think of other things to put up and I'm sure I can come up with something. But besides, I just wanted to say some more sorries here and there because I know how it feels to wait for a good book to come out or a chapter to be uploaded and I usually try to stick to a fast, uploading speed. Hopefully this won't happen again. Review everyone and see you around the next chapter!**

**UPDATED: 08/27/2014**


	28. Rosalie

**I've updated! Finally, but the only flaw in this is the fact that it's not the next chapter of the story. But good news! I am halfway done with the chapter and it shall be up soon! I am still working on trying to keep my update speed at a consistent pace but I'm far from my usually three day speed. Anyways, since we've reached our 400 mark and I'm done with the stories of the servants, I'll have to think of something else to write about. But it's up to you readers to decide whether or not I should continue with bonus chapters because, seeing as the story is getting to its peak, I'm not sure if some of you would want to wait extra just because of some bonus chapters. But it's always good to have some background information. But besides that, happy reading!**

Sweeping past Bard and Finny who seemed to be in a rather pathetic argument, Rosalie watered the vase of roses that sat on the glass cabinet in the living room. Any moment now and one of those idiots were going to destroy something, Rosalie thought. Not a second later the sound of something falling to the ground reached her ears. Turning she felt her heart drop when she saw the expensive tea set in pieces on the ground. Lord Gabranth had personally bought that set. Seeing the pulsing gold tint of magic in Bard's hand, she knew immediately who the culprit was. "Bard . . ." Rosalie began.

But as soon as she said something he was gone and flying out of the living room, not doubt into the kitchen. Lord Gabranth was just too kind, she thought as she cleaned up the broken shards to toss them out. After all of the ridiculous funds that had been put into replacing broken item after item and wall after wall, he still didn't punish any of them. "Finny, why don't you go tend to the garden?"

"Alright!" He skipped from the room. She had to admit their roles were rather odd. Finny, the incredibly strong boy altered by Galbatorix's magicians, a gardener. Bard, a sergeant in the royal army, a cook. Desdemona, a beautiful girl, born from nobility, a maid. And she, Rosalie, a maid as well. Usually, she would never agree to such a low ranking job and yet, here she was cleaning things up and making sure everything was in order. She could remember her life before she had met Lord Gabranth.

_Usually humans don't live very long. If you were lucky, you could live to the old and nice age of eighty years old. If you weren't, well, you weren't. But her life was extended longer than she would've wanted. Whoever had done so had thought they were doing her a favor. But they weren't. Rosalie couldn't remember much of what had happened but she saw flashes of it. Bandits barricading her in, lying in the valley left to die and then something large and blue leaning down and just softly touching her with its snout. And when the next morning came, she was healed and alive. But that was over a hundred years ago._

_Rosalie had found herself wandering for almost a good two decades before realization hit home. She wasn't aging. Her young face was still flawless. Her beauty still dazzling. Not one wrinkle, not one sign of age except for her forest green eyes. That was when she met the witch Angela in Surda. A woman who remained ageless, away from the bounds of time from magic or her herbs. She had offered Rosalie a sanctuary and had given her something to do._

_In time, Rosalie had learned to use an arrow with precision and magic like no other magician in Galbatorix's forces. She was strong and never would a fate like she had experienced in the hands of those bandits befall her again. It was one night, however, that as she was leaving the herbalist's shop that she and Angela and ran together, she heard a scream._

_It was full of fear and following it was a whimper, a plead to stop. And she was angered as her own past surfaced as she remembered the cruel torture that was forced upon her. How since her rescue she could not marry a human man anymore, how she could not live a normal life amongst the Empire._

_Running in the direction of the agonizing screams, she turned a corner and hurried down an alleyway to find a group of drunken soldiers, barricading in a young girl who was barely eighteen by the looks of it. Her dress was ripped at the sleeves and Rosalie could see the fear in her eyes. Men; how she despised them and their superiority. Did they think that bearing the Empire's crest meant that they could do what they pleased with the common people?_

_Before she could decide whether to kill them straight off or take another course of action, one of the soldiers spotted her. "Oi! Look at this beauty." His words slurred as he stumbled towards her. "Got lost, sweetheart?"_

"_Get away from me!" Rosalie said in disgust. He didn't take the suggestion too kindly. He reached out and gripped her arm. It was pitiful to admit but her strength was no match for a man's. Digging deep into the barrier of her mind, she grabbed for the energy._

_But suddenly, the soldier dropped her hand and slowly began to back away from her. What was going on? Turning, her eyes caught sight of the dark helm and the black cape. "Lord Gabranth!"_

_He walked forward only to stop and incline his head towards her as if staring at her from behind his helm before returning to the group of soldiers. "What goes on here?" His deep voice was full of an anger which made the soldiers pale._

"_We were—"_

"_Yes?"_

"_We—we—"_

"_They were trying to whip out their swords and force that girl to play mistress to them!" Rosalie said, her anger getting the better of her._

_All was silent for a moment, and only the eerily stillness of night seemed to penetrate through their senses. Finally, Gabranth spoke. "You will return to the keep, all of you, and I shall see to it that you will be punished."_

_The fear in their eyes was clear. As they staggered away drunk and trying to right themselves, she felt undeniably pleased. But the feeling was soon washed away as she hurried forward to help the young girl. "It's alright, you're safe."_

_She didn't speak but nodded and numbly accepted her help. Her skin was cold and she was trembling. It didn't help either when Lord Gabranth stepped forward. His armor must have seemed frightening after what had happened. "Don't worry," he said in a manner that wasn't particularly soothing. "Those soldiers will be punished by the morrow, you have my word."_

_The girl didn't reply but instead gave a small nod. He turned to Rosalie. "Take her back home give her this." He placed a velvet pouch into her hands and she could feel a generous amount of crowns weighing down her hand. "Make sure she buys herself a new dress."_

_With that he turned and left disappearing into the shadows. Rosalie frowned. What an odd person. She had expected the infamous Lord Gabranth to be someone who didn't waste his time wandering the streets at night for crime…_

_It didn't take long for her to help the girl into her home where her parents were waiting anxiously for her. They thanked her for her help. As she was walking to her own home, she thought of Lord Gabranth. He was an interesting character. And truth to be told, she was bored with her life. Beyond bored actually. Everything was the same, nothing was changing._

_And that was why . . ._

"_Is there a reason why you came here, Ms. Rosalie?" said Lady Selena as she set a cup of brewed tea before her. Rosalie nodded, wandering how on earth such a person as Lord Gabranth would have such a beautiful and youthful mother._

"_Yes," said Rosalie as she raised the cup to her lips to take a sip. It was delicious. "Is his lordship coming?"_

"_I'll go call him again." Lady Selena made to rise from her seat but stopped as the door flew open, revealing a young man with pointed ears and angled eyes._

"_There's no need," said Lord Gabranth as he stepped into the room, his armored legs clanking against the floor. "You wanted to see me, mother?"_

"_No, Ms. Rosalie would like to have a word with you. If you need me I'll be out in the garden." With that she glided out of the room closing the door behind her. Gabranth turned to her, his expression impassive; he was not moved by her beauty. It surprised her._

"_Yes?" The way he said it made it sound like he had better things to do and that made her more interested in him._

"_I want to work for you."_

_That had caught him off guard for he didn't reply until nearly two minutes passed. "Work for me? And why would you want to do that?"_

"_Honestly . . . I just feel that working for you would be more interesting than my current life," said Rosalie. "Will you accept my proposal?"_

_He stared at her for a long time before turning on his feet, heading for the door and she'd thought that he had denied her before he spoke again. "Do what you want."_

And it had been three years since that time and life couldn't be more interesting. Shortly after she joined, Bard was soon hired for a cook but his cooking skills could be put into question, seeing as he always destroys the kitchen. Then came Desdemona, the proud daughter of a nobleman, who served Lord Gabranth with devotion. And finally Finny, the overexcited man that always seemed to be putting a hole in the wall, either by his reckless strength or outright clumsiness. But in truth, life had become much livelier. The once quiet house with just his lordship, lady, and Saphira, had transformed into a mansion filled with laughter; their laughter.

Just then Lord Gabranth passed by, walking towards his chambers. "My lord," Rosalie called. He turned to stare at her. "May Desdemona and I take leave to the city to buy another tea set?"

He gave her the same look as three years ago before turning. "Do what you want," came his reply as he entered his room, closing the door behind him. Rosalie smiled as she went to search for her female companion. Life was looking up.

**I hope you like this chapter of Rosalie, I wanted her to be different from the rest of the servants. But besides that, don't forget to review and tell me your ideas, it always gives me motivation to write Reversed Life. Not that I don't already have enough drive because I'm bent on finishing this story. See you all at my next chapter, which hopefully will be up soon in the next few days.**


	29. Chapter 24

**I'll just like to say that this story has gone much farther than I thought it would and all of your reviews are wonderful motivation factors. So thank you, and let's see, what else. What else? I guess there's nothing and since I'm holding up your reading, I'll stop now. R&R readers!**

The sound of mockingbirds trilling told her that the world was up and that she should rise with it as well. Blinking, she rose to her feet, stretching her limbs and taking in her surroundings, and saw the forest of Du Weldenvarden, instead of Ellesméra. Turning her head slightly, she saw Eragon laid out against the ground, still asleep. She was about to shake him awake when she remembered what Bard had told her before they had departed from Farthen Dûr. Eragon was not a morning person.

Bending down, Arya took in the sight of him sleeping. He looked more _peaceful_ asleep, she thought. It was hard to mix the concept of a peaceful Eragon with the rather detached Eragon that she had come to know. Reaching forward to wake him, she immediately drew her hand back when she felt his cold and clammy skin. Arya hadn't been in contact with sickness much in her life. Being an elf made it harder for illness to befall her, and even during the seventy years with the Varden, she rarely associated with humans besides those in high ranking positions. But she knew from first glance that what ailed Eragon wasn't a simply a cold.

Bringing forth her hand again, she placed it on his forehead. Despite his cold skin, he was burning inside. "Eragon . . ." murmured Arya, gently shaking him, but received no response. The only thing that showed that he was still living was his deep breathing. What made matters worse was that Saphira had left with Eridor in the night to hunt and she knew that the dragons wouldn't be back until night fell. That left her with the task of taking care of Eragon.

"Something is bound to go wrong," she muttered to herself. First thing first; she had to take care of his temperature. Removing a piece cloth in her pack, she went to the stream and soaked it in the clear, cool water before wringing it damp. Returning to Eragon, she gently laid the cloth on his forehead.

But even that gesture seemed insignificant. He was too sick and it was hard to determine what to do when she didn't even know the illness that seemed to rack his body. She glanced back at his forehead where sweat seemed to be forming as the sun began to reach its height in the sky, pounding heat down on them. It was a risk . . . but . . .

_My mind is my only sanctuary._

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Reaching out with her mind, she pushed forward until she touched his thoughts. Then something strange happened. It was as if she was being pulled from her own body and into his mind.

_It was a strange place, a castle but yet it had no walls. Odd furnishing and decorations stood on the stone floor and hung on the invisible walls. What was this place? But she already knew, this was Eragon's mind. Taking a step, she stopped as everything about her began to shimmer and become distorted. But as fast as it happened, it stopped and she found herself staring at paintings that surrounded her._

_But they weren't paintings . . ._

_The people within them moved and the scenes changed. "Memories?" she wondered. But where was Eragon's presence? He was here somewhere, she was sure of it. But where? Reaching out, Arya tentatively touched one of the moving memories._

_The entire world before her disappeared into a white void. A wall came forth from nowhere and with it blossomed another image, one that almost made her heart stop. It showed a cell, very similar to hers back at Gil'ead, but much darker. A small window stood high on a sleek cement wall and below it were markings of blood. What was going on?_

_The the door burst open and a boy was thrown into the open space. Expecting him to crash into her, her eyes widened when he fell through her body. She was nonexistent in the memory. The boy lunged for the closing door with a cry of despair. "No! Let me out!"_

_But the door slammed shut, and encased the cell in darkness, the only light that penetrated the dark space coming from the small window. The little boy turned and she felt her shock heighten at the sight of Eragon. She had had an inkling as to who it was but to see his young face, his innocent eyes . . ._

_He was bruised and bloody, his brown hair a mess, and his clothes, which seemed to resemble very fine silk, were dirtied and torn in a few places and frayed at others. He glanced at the window with a defeated look in his eyes before sitting with his back against the opposite wall, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs as if to ward away his enemies and fears._

_Arya stared at the Eragon before her, defenseless and fearful. Letting her feet take her next to him, she squatted down next to him, watching him, try to ward off tears. A broken whisper lodged itself in her mind. "I'm all alone . . ."_

_And that brought back painful memories. Fäolin falling . . . Glenwing following as they fell to the ground. She wanted to reach out to touch him but the image began to fade again, distorting and changing until she watched the boy Eragon struggling against bonds that were restraining his arms to a table, making it seem like a crypt._

"_STOP!" he screamed in horror, and she saw the scene clearly with her own eyes. Strange people wearing dark robes and demented eyes stood over him, one at his head, holding what looked to be as a small carving knife. What was happening?_

_Her body reacted before her mind could get a grip on the situation. She watched as the knife went down, a piercing scream of pure agony echoing continuously through the room. The stream of blood that seem to drip from the table, the sound of the knife slicing and squishing a part of Eragon. And that object in particular was Eragon's right eye. She lunged, expecting to tackle the man, but instead went straight through him._

_Steadying her feet, she turned to see the memory changing yet again. But the horror of the last one was still inflicted in her mind. His . . . eye . . . she had seen many horrors in her life but this was one of the few that made her weak at the knees. A child being tortured, pleading against his torturers. Resisting the strong urge to vomit, she took in the scene that now stood before her._

_His right eye was wrapped with a white bandage that span around his head and back. He was kneeling in a hall filled with bodies, and she recognized them. She had just seen the dark robed people torturing him. But they lay bloody and some were unrecognizable from the infliction of injuries._

_Eragon knelt in the pool of blood, a sword thrown haphazardly to the side, his hands raised before his face, trembling. His eyes dilated with fear and he looked half crazed. "W-what have I done? I-I-I—"_

_At a loss for words, he let out a demented scream, his hands coming to clutch painfully at his hair. And yet again the room began to change and this time, she found herself staring out into a sunset that turned the sky a beautiful orange and the ocean dancing with flames. A city port no doubt._

_Clunk._

_Arya turned her head to see Eragon in his armor walk forward until the water was lapping at his metal boots. His helm was nowhere to be seen. His eyes held a faraway look, his right eye bearing no trace of injury at all. It was silent as she stood beside him but that moment was enough. The silence spoke more than just mere words within themselves._

_And finally he spoke. "Freedom . . . as wide as the horizon stretches . . ."_

_And suddenly it became a blanket of white and before her stood Eragon. And she had no doubt within her mind that this person was real for he was staring at her with such anger, he must be looking directly at her. "What do you think you are doing?" he snapped, his eyes burning._

_She felt herself stiffen without meaning to. Arya didn't take that tone well, with anyone. "I wanted to just touch your mind to feel for your presence . . . but a rather strange magic seemed to have pulled me into your memories."_

_His anger still hadn't sedated as he stood before her. "You have no right! This is my sanctuary!"_

"_And it still is for I have naught to take from it!" she snapped back. He looked like he was about to retort but kept his lips firmly shut as if afraid of saying something overly offending. Trying to bring about something much less personal, Arya glanced about her. "Where are we?"_

"_My mind." He said rather scathingly, still angered at her intrusion, apparently. She nodded. But the difference in it, the strange quality, piqued her curiosity to no extent. She would have to ask later when he wasn't angry. "Now, what was the matter that was so important to the extent that you needed to intrude upon my privacy?"_

_She stared at him, at a loss for words. Did he not know how sick his body was? How the illness has racked him to the point that his skin was ice cold and a shocking white as well? Or perhaps this was a side effect of what was happening to him. "You're sick." Arya spoke deliberately and slowly. He nodded. She continued. "You haven't awoken and I thought to contact you . . . but instead, I was pulled within your mind."_

_He frowned and suddenly the white void began to change into an endless green meadow, filled with beautiful rain lilies. "I see," he said, quite put out. Not looking at her, he began to stroll leisurely through the flowers. "Beautiful, aren't they?"_

_He was avoiding it, she thought as she followed him. There was something that he was hiding from her. "Your mind is a very odd place," she said._

_He shrugged. "At times, I find it easier to close myself from reality and wander forever in meadows of flowers. But I must admit, I've never had another person in my mind like you are right now."_

_She raised an eyebrow, signaling for him to continue talking. "It's an odd feeling to know that another being is standing in your thoughts and memories. Some of which aren't too pleasant," said Eragon, and her mind instantly came back to his right eye being stabbed by a carving knife. "My eye is fine, I can still see with it."_

"_Can you?" asked Arya, not sure herself. He nodded. They continued in silence in the never ending meadow. Neither knowing what else to say to the other. Eventually, Arya broke the silence. "I am sorry for intruding into your mind."_

"_You did it out of concern, I can see that. But whatever you saw stays between us, Arya," he said, turning to stare at her. She nodded._

"_You have my word." He turned to face forward and the meadow began to shift and change, revealing the sea. He turned to smile at her as she took in the beauty of the water. The ocean, she had always loved the ocean._

"_Elves love the ocean, do they not?" he asked. She nodded. "Why is that, do you think?"_

"_I do not know myself," said Arya truthfully. "But it is beautiful, is it not?"_

"_It is." The waves lapped at their boots and she had to admit that even the water felt real within his mind despite the fact that it was a creation of his thoughts. "Have you ever thought about leaving Alagaësia?"_

_Surprise followed his words. She turned to stare at him but he refused to meet her eyes directly. Leave Alagaësia? Why would she leave her forest and her people? It was true that elves did arrive in this land, but that was far and long ago. Now, she and her people were one with the forest in which they grew to love. Leaving was beyond her thoughts. "I've yet to think a single thought of such."_

_He nodded. His eyes still holding a faraway look. "Maybe that is because you have a reason to stay."_

"_You have your mother and father." Arya said quietly. He shook his head._

"_Not for long." He tilted his head to the side to stare at her from the corner of his eyes with a sad smile. "How depressing it is, to watch your mother and father age while remaining unbound by the grips of time."_

_She didn't reply. How could she say something to that? It was true, as a rider, he and Saphira were bonded physically and mentally. He would not age as mortals would; he would live in her people's realm. Longer than most races. Without the fear of time. "I've been thinking about something."_

"_And what is that?" Arya said, prompting him to continue._

"_That death isn't a punishment but a release from the burden of living." That could be put into question, Arya thought. Death was a state of being, a natural way of life. Nothing could be untouched by its grip and yet, everything tried to elude it. The only difference in death was that some died sooner and others died later. "Because in death there is no pain."_

"_There is nothing in death," said Arya._

_Eragon shrugged. "We don't know that . . . but one thing that I do know is that there is great pain in living."_

"_Not always." She argued._

"_No, not always." He agreed. "But there is enough."_

"_Do you wish to die?" Arya asked quietly, turning her body towards him. He stared at her, and then turned his body to face her as well. His expression was solemn and his eyes portrayed a deep sadness and pain._

"_I would be lying to you if I said no," he replied just as quietly. But then he smiled. "But I don't plan to die anytime soon. I'll continue to play fate's game for as long as I am able, and protect those whom I love to the best of my abilities. That's why I'm still living."_

_Impulsively, she reached out to lay a hand on the side of his face. He looked surprise but didn't back down from her touch. "It isn't called living unless you live for yourself, Eragon."_

_He chuckled. "Then I must have been dead ever since I became a rider."_

_She gave him a faint smile. "I wouldn't call it such." She continued thinking, returning to her serious self. "But a day will come when you will find it in yourself to live for you and no other, I'm sure of it."_

"_Then I will try to live to see that day." He promised. She nodded and pulled her hand away, turning to stare back at the horizon._

"_And yet, you are already sick and near the verge of death itself," said Arya. She turned her head to stare into his brown eyes. "You must tell me what to do Eragon, or it may be too late to save you."_

_He considered her for a moment, before nodding. "You need to bring me to Master Oromis. And hurry."_

_She was about to ask him his sickness but her spoke before her. "I can't tell you what ails me, Arya. But know this; I will not lose to it easily."_

"_But—"_

"_Do you trust me?"_

_Her response was immediate. "I do."_

"_Then please, bring my body to Oromis if I do not awaken from my stupor. Tell him to contact me through my mind."_

_Beating down her curiosity, she nodded. Oromis... she would just have to trust her master in saving Eragon's life. Thinking of Oromis brought her first priority back to hand; getting Eragon back to Ellesméra. She had to leave his mind and make haste — for if he was as sick as she thought he was, then time was of the essence._

"_How do I leave?" she asked Eragon. He didn't answer her but motioned for her to stare back at the horizon. She did. As the two of them gazed out of the water, the air before them began to shimmer and distort. A brilliant white light sparked before them, before blossoming as if trying to eat the vacant space, and shifting into a doorway._

"_All you need to do is walk through and it will lead you back to your own mind." She nodded and turned to leave._

_Arya was stopped when Eragon's hand came out to grip her own. She turned to give him a questioning look. "Thank you, for coming for me."_

_She nodded and sent him a small smile because she lacked words for a response. It was enough, though, and he slowly loosened his fingers from her wrist. Staring at him for another second, she turned towards the doorway and left, leaving Eragon in her wake._

_It was a strange experience as she passed through the door. It was as if she was being thrown back into her mind and body._

Rapidly blinking, Arya turned to stare at the person before her. And to her alarm, a sheen of sweat covered his face, and a slight tremor ran through his body. Glancing towards the sky, Arya was shocked to find that it was already noon. She had been in his mind for that long of a period.

Glancing back at Eragon, she placed a hand across his forehead. It was still burning. He gave a light cough in his sleep.

She was racing against time to save his life.

**Anyways, I hoped you like this chapter. Thanks to all of you readers for keep on reading! I'll try my best to update really soon! And I'm still undecided about stopping the bonus chapters but that doesn't mean you can't review! Hehe...well anyways, I'll see you all at the next chapter! Thanks to everyone!**


	30. Chapter 25

**Finally! The next chapter of the story. :) I know it took longer than my usual updating time and for that I'm sorry. But it's here and I know you're all very anxious to continue reading! :) And thank you for hitting the 500 mark, it makes me very happy to see that you all care for this story. R&R.**

_The sound of mockingbirds filled the empty space with a form of life, whether it was imaginary or not. His mind was peaceful in that way. It could be what he wanted it to be. Eragon sighed as he sat in the meadow of rain lilies. It was beautiful, what his mind could conjure up. But despite its beauty, he would rather be back in his own body then trapped here. Because past this barrier was pure darkness._

_It was hard to admit but his mind was starting to spin out of control. Or maybe he was just losing control of his own mind. He wasn't sure. But the ability to control his own body was becoming harder and harder. If it kept going on, then he would have to leave Ellesméra. He was stupid to actually leave the Empire in the first place. After trying so hard to break free of Galbatorix's grip, he couldn't survive without the Black King's help. Not even Oromis could save him._

"_That's right." He turned to find himself standing before him. But this person wasn't him, rather the image of him. His shadow. The way he held himself spoke of conceit and the cold gleam in his eyes portrayed that of a killer. "You can't be saved now that you left our master, Eragon."_

"_Master?" said Eragon with a sharp ring to his voice. "Since when have I knelt and acknowledged him my master? He was my king."_

"_Ah, but a king is a master isn't he?" said Shadow Eragon with a smirk. "You serve them the same way, don't you?"_

_He didn't answer but watched as the shadow of himself began to move about the meadow his bare feet killing the flowers and leaving a dark patch everywhere he went. "You bowed your head to him, didn't you? You called him your majesty, and that is no different than calling him your master."_

"_He was never my master. He was only yours," retorted Eragon._

_His shadow nodded, turning to smile coldly at him revealing a pair of mismatched eyes. Blue and violet. This was the only point in which they didn't match. "That's right, and what a kind master he has been."_

"_Kind?" said Eragon. "Would you call your state kind?"_

"_Oh, yes," said Shadow Eragon. "When the magic breaks, you won't have enough power in you to save your own soul."_

"_You wouldn't know that," said Eragon. His shadow laughed._

"_I know," said Shadow Eragon. "Look at you now, reduced to nothing. Your own mind rebelling against you. If you can't control something that your essence is made of, how can you control your body?"_

"_I don't need you to mock me," snapped Eragon, earning another laugh._

"_Oh, are we getting angry?" mocked shadow Eragon. "It's just too bad that Arya has left. Such a beautiful elf, don't you agree, Eragon?"_

_He didn't reply. "Of course you would, because you and I are one and the same. Those emerald green eyes, her luscious ebony hair. And let's not forget her rather pleasing figure."_

"_That's enough!" said Eragon angrily. "I've had enough conversation with you. Go back to your tomb!"_

"_Go back?" repeated shadow Eragon. "Go back?" He laughed. "I don't think you understand. I'm so happy like this. Why would I want to go back?"_

"_If you refuse to leave, then I shall make you," said Eragon, "Don't violate a place that is sacred to me." Holding out his hand, he watched as a blue flame began to appear before spreading out in a straight line. The flames began to mold and harden into a silver shine revealing a sword. Gripping it tightly, he swung it in a circle, crossing his arms expertly before him, the sword parallel to the slant of his body as he bent his knee._

"_Then let us see which one of us is the stronger now," said shadow Eragon losing his smile to be replaced by a cold expression. A sword appeared in his hand, born from a violet flame. His stance was much different. He left his entire body open and his sword down by his side._

_They stared at one another for a moment, before the two moved, both of them running for the other. Swinging his sword in an upwards slash, he gritted his teeth when it was meet by the other Eragon's own sword._

_Moving back from the hit, he swung again only to have it met blade for blade. He should've known that it wouldn't be easy fighting his shadow. They were one in the same, a clone of each other. Predicting one another's move wasn't going to be difficult. Jumping, he turned with his sword arm outstretched, spinning in the air, he moved his blade in the circular direction, only to have it blocked for every hit. Jumping backwards, he barely brought up his sword to deflect the hit._

"_For someone who is sick, you fight very well," said Shadow Eragon. "Some fun for once in my imprisonment!"_

_Stumbling as he was forced backwards with a shove, he regained his balance in time to bring his sword back up to meet Shadow Eragon's. The sparks that came forth showed how intensely they were fighting. "Imprisonment?" said Eragon. "It wouldn't be this way if you didn't bend to every one of Galbatorix's whims!"_

"_Bend?" growled Shadow Eragon. "No, he has promised me a future!"_

"_Future?" repeated Eragon. "Don't give me that! You call this a future?"_

_Dodging a swipe to the head, he shuffled his feet backwards, swaying lightly to the side, dodging blow after blow. "As long as I listen to his majesty's orders, I'll open a way to my future!"_

"_You want a future to live like me? To take control of me?" said Eragon, returning the attacks. "Don't make me laugh! That isn't called living!"_

_His words were getting to his shadow, the slight falter in his movements showing that Eragon was gaining the advantage. "You aren't living! You're just a shadow of me! Even if you do win, what will you gain?" said Eragon, as he swept his sword arm upwards. "He'll just use you as a puppet!"_

"_You don't understand!" roared shadow Eragon. "I want to be alive! I want to be able to feel, and as long as I remove you, then I will be able to live!"_

"_You fool!" The two of them made for one another, their swords raised, not faltering in the steps. "If only you could think for yourself!"_

"_If only you weren't in my way!"_

_Pulling back his left hand as the edge of their blades met, Eragon raised it to reveal a growing ball of sapphire energy. He'll finish this once and for all. This humiliation of not being in control of his mind and body. Of the fact that despite being halfway across Alagaësia, Galbatorix could still affect him._

"_Don't be idiotic! Using magic in your own mind!" shouted shadow Eragon as he brought up his own hand to fend off the attack, a pulse of violet energy forming. "You could kill yourself!"_

"_As long as I can rid myself of you, then I'll do whatever it takes! I'd rather meet death's waiting arms than let you take what's mine!"_

_Releasing the magic, the sapphire light met the violet one and the result was a backlash of energy. Being thrown off his feet, he felt his breath leave him when he landed rather roughly on the ground. Suddenly, his body began to spasm from agony. The pain of it was scorching. His mind was damaged from the blast, and he was paying the price for bringing magic within the body._

_Trying to reign in his seizing limbs, Eragon could barely make out the form of his shadow lying on the ground, clutching his head in the same amount of pain and agony. It was a dirty trick, but he couldn't let his shadow win. No matter what. Even if it meant killing himself to do it. But Saphira…he couldn't abandon her._

_Trying to grasp control of his mind and body, he groaned painfully when he tried to get to one foot. The pain was immeasurable. His body was refusing to corporate with him. It was pitiful really . . . how his shadow desired so much to be real._

_But without a heart, his shadow could never achieve that dream._

_Galbatorix had given him a body and a mind, but not a heart. Feeling was out of his reach. Or at least that was what Eragon had assumed. Struggling to get to his feet, he panted watching in disbelief as shadow Eragon rose too, his hand a glowing violet. More magic?_

_His mental capacity couldn't withstand the damage. Dodging a blast of violet, he felt pain erupt in his mind. Then something began to happen that he didn't expect. A golden dust began to rain down from the endless blackness that surrounded them, and along with it, the fragments of his mind._

_Gripping his head, Eragon let out a shout of pain as his mind began to collapse into fragments. Memories torn asunder, thoughts jumbled together. Falling to his knees, he couldn't minimize the pain he was going through no matter how hard he tried. Was this the end for him? Was he going to die?_

_But he never even got a chance to speak his heart yet . . . not to his father nor his mother. Just thinking about all of those times in which he and his mother couldn't talk without the limitations of the pain and torment that he had went through. Of the guilt that she couldn't protect him. The thought of him not talking to them again made his heart pound furiously in his chest. No!_

_This wasn't going to be the end of him. He wasn't going to lose here. Not after everything he had went through. Not after how long he fought to break free from Galbatorix and the nonexistent life that he led until now._

_It was almost nonexistent as it crept up on him — an emerald light bursting forth from the shadows, glowing brighter and brighter until it rose up like a towering wall, encircling him and protecting him._

"_Emerald light?" muttered Eragon to himself, feeling the pain slowly drain away. Getting to his feet, he watched as the fragment of his mind began to weave itself together again with the aid of another blue light. "Could it be Saphira and Arya?"_

_He turned as the emerald and blue light began to engulf him, like a warm blanket. Suddenly feeling rather drowsy, he didn't fight the blackness that engulfed him._

_. . . . . . ._

_Falling . . ._

_He was falling . . ._

_And this time, there was no one to catch him._

"_Eragon, that's enough, sweetheart." Tiredly blinking his eyes open, he frowned, wearily staring about himself. A field of flowers, he was lying in a field of flowers. Clovers to be exact. With a groan, he moved into a sitting position._

_He turned towards the sound of the voice. Sitting with a young boy was his mother. She wore a beautiful dress._

_Those were the good times._

_Until he became a dragon rider, he was happy. Leaving with his mother, being able to feel her warmth, meant everything to him. But what happened to them these past years? Was it his fault? Or was it his mother's? The resentment he had long lived with, the sadness. . ._

_Ever since that unfaithful day, he couldn't find it in him to talk to his mother like he used to. And that was when the barriers slowly grew, growing bigger and bigger by the years. Did she blame herself? Eragon didn't blame her._

_Though maybe it was because she had suffered just as much as he did, having to see her son struggle. Not being able to protect him._

I wish that I . . .

"Eragon . . ." He frowned, that voice, it didn't belong anywhere in his mind. "Eragon . . ."

Tiredly blinking, he frowned when he opened his eyes to the ceiling of what seemed to be a cave. What was going on? Turning his head slightly, he jumped at the sight of Arya sitting on the ground beside him, studying him intently.

Moving into a sitting position, he observed their surroundings. From the looks of it, the cave wasn't overly large, just big enough for them and the dragons to fit. From the sound of pouring water and clashes from the outside, he deducted that there was a large storm rolling about out there.

That made everything the more dangerous. As long as he was with Arya and there was a chance of acting up, he was afraid he could potentially harm her. This wasn't a good idea. "How are you feeling?"

Eragon glanced at her for a moment. "Tired." He answered, trying to avoid looking into her eyes.

She nodded. They sat there for a moment, neither speaking until it was Arya who broke the silence. "Was something wrong?"

He gave her a questioning look. "You were seizing in pain not long ago and when I went to help you, I couldn't reach your mind."

So that was it. What could he say to her? Saphira refused to interfere with their conversation and opted to speak with Eridor leaving him to think of a reply. But for some reason, his mind wouldn't want to cooperate with him. The internal damage must still be lingering on him.

"I would rather not tell you," said Eragon at last. "I need to speak with Master Oromis first."

"I see." Did she? Eragon wondered. Since Arya was an elf, he knew that she wouldn't visibly pry for information, a trait that he was grateful for as he didn't feel the need to reveal anything to her.

"But I thank you." At her questioning stare, he elaborated. "For saving me, that is."

"There is no need for thanks, I am sure that if you were in the same situation that I was in, you would save my life as well." Her eyes flickered to the ceiling of the cave before returning back to him. "Consider it a debt repaid for what you did for me in Gil'ead."

"Then I will." Eragon nodded. Searching for a change of subject, he glanced outside at the downpour. "How long have we been here?"

"Half a day," said Arya. "When it rains in Du Weldenvarden, it doesn't stop for quite a while. I'm sure that it's storming within Ellesméra at the moment."

"It looks rather severe." Commented Eragon.

She nodded. Keeping his eyes on the rain, Eragon let his mind wander. Rain . . . was it a blessing or was it a curse? He had often wondered about that. It gave life to plants and water to animals, respite to those who live on Alagaësia but it also clouded their sun and made their days colder. When one looked at it from a view point, sometimes what gives blessing is also what makes curses.

"You seem deep in thought," said Arya softly from where she sat next to him.

"Rain . . . what do you think of it?" asked Eragon. She turned to him, her green eyes questioning and curious.

"Rain?"

He nodded.

She sat there deep in thought. "I've always thought of rain a mere product of nature, nothing more, nothing less," she said eventually.

Eragon chuckled. That was right, she was an elf. She wouldn't believe in spiritual thoughts and beliefs. "I should've predicted that you would give that answer," said Eragon.

She arched an eyebrow. "And what do you think of rain?"

He shrugged. "I guess it depends on what I feel of it. Sometimes I look at it as a blessing but other times, it almost seems like a curse." He smiled slightly. "At times when I see rain, I often think of myself. Whether being who I am was a blessing because I've gotten to see many people and have Saphira hatch for me. Or was it a curse? Because of my constant struggle to live to today."

"But in the end, it's all the same. After it rains, the sun will come up. Like with my life, after everything is over and down with, I may be able to enjoy its warmth," said Eragon. "Because ever since I became a dragon rider, I've always lived for tomorrow. Just to make it through another day, to continue living. And because of tomorrow, I sacrificed my life today."

Suddenly when a hand reached out to grip his, he nearly jumped, not expecting Arya to do anything of the sort. Her emerald green eyes were bright in the darkness as they seem to pierce his soul. "Then live for today."

He blinked. Live for today? Live for now? But how could he when what he wanted was tomorrow? That what he had desired most in his heart was a future in which he could experience things that he was deprived off? The thought had never occurred to him... and yet for Arya to say something like that. "The future is important but you shouldn't call it a future when what you did yesterday had no meaning to it."

Her words made his eyes widen. And in his heart, he knew that she was true. That living a life without meaning was worthless. That living for the sake of living had no future to it. But how could he live for the present and not worry about the future? About what could possibly happen to him? That sort of thinking, he never thought of it, never let it affect him. But now, when Arya had said it, the words seem to hold a different meaning.

"Eragon." He blinked, focusing as he stared into her eyes, feeling the warmth of her hand. "You and I are friends, so trust me."

**And so, what is happening with Eragon? You'll just have to wait to find out! Hopefully, it won't be too long. :) Besides that I hope you all review and tell me what you think. :) See you next chapter**


	31. Chapter 26

**First and foremost I'm so sorry for the prolong delay. I've been having a hard time settling down my life and I just lost the motivation to write my story. But I always remembered the promise about finishing this story and when Inheritance came out (which I am currently reading) I just got the motivation to do it again. And so I cleared everything off my agenda and sat and typed away for ages. And I would also like to thank all of you who have been reviewing and keeping up my motivations as well as my Beta not giving up on me. Anyway, I know you're all excited so have fun reading and don't forget to review. :)**

If Arya's prediction was to be trusted, the rain was not going to let up anytime soon. But on the third day, it had gotten much better; at least that was what she told him. However, he had not expected to be trekking through the forest underneath a torrent of falling droplets of water. Still, it was better than doing nothing. Easily stepping over roots, he frowned when his boots landed in a rather thick puddle of mud. He _thought_ it was mud anyways.

"It is mud," stated Arya, who was walking ahead of him. She turned her head back to smirk at him: "There is no need to make such a face, Eragon."

"What I do not understand is how you can walk all over the ground and only have mud on the _bottom _of your boots." He muttered, slightly put out at the sight of his black leather boots drenched in mud. Continuing onward, he glanced overhead, the dragons haven't yet left the cave yet, seeing the rather detrimental weather conditions.

The objective was that he and Arya reach Ellesmera in due time and once the weather betters, the dragons would follow. But that was only if everything went according to plan. Lately, however, luck wasn't in his favor. Whatever that was going to happen when he returned to Ellesmera, he would have to try his best to face it. Especially coming face to face with Queen Islanzadi again.

There was no way around it; he had to tell her the truth.

Her and Oromis.

Sighing, Eragon craned his head to glance up through the small gaps the leaves, which promptly resulted in a raindrop falling on his cheek. But how should he even begin to explain? Would they believe him or would they turn their backs?

"You seem to be deep in thought." Arya said. It was not a question, but rather a statement of fact. She paused in her consistent stride to turn and look at him, before turning away and resuming their journey.

"I was just thinking about some things." Eragon replied, vaguely. He did not want to start explaining himself just yet. Everything seemed confusing to him in his current state.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Very," said Eragon with a nod, knowing that she probably wasn't going to see it. "My illness has long since passed."

"That is good to know."

He glanced ahead of them. "How far along are we?"

Stopping to judge the distance, Arya turned to face him. "If my estimation is correct, by night we shall be within the outskirts of Ellesmera. But I am sure you don't plan on returning to the city first."

"No, I'm not," agreed Eragon, "how much further is Oromis's hut?"

"For that even I am not sure," admitted Arya with a slight frown, "It might take us days without the help of the dragons."

"Days, huh?" he frowned. That wasn't good enough. Especially not now when his mind was in the condition it is. He fell into pace with Arya, thinking to himself as they walked in a comfortable silence. It had been a few months since he'd left the Empire, and the distance he was from Galbatorix was also part of the problem.

As he walked, his vision flickered before him, for a moment causing him to stagger slightly. Regaining his sight, he steadied himself. Not again. He couldn't afford to lose control anymore around Arya or he could fatally wound her.

"Are you feeling unwell?" asked Arya as she came to stand beside him.

He shook his head. "No, just lost my balance is all." He lied. Saphira wasn't around to keep him from falling apart, which made the situation all the direr. He needed a distraction of some sort; something to keep his mind from unraveling at the ends like a ball of yarn. As they continued walking he felt himself slowly smile as something came to mind. It would be embarrassing to ask but he was going to take the chance anyway.

"Arya," she turned to him and gave him a curious stare. "Would you like to indulge me with a game of words?"

She nodded, her expression growing more curious. "The rules are simple," Eragon explained, "I'll start off in a category and say a word pertaining to it, and you have to find a word that also relates to the same category as well but it has to start with the last letter of my word. For example," he cast for a subject, "the category is birds, vulture."

She responded in kin, her eyes gleaming. "Eagle."

Eragon nodded, "That's all there is to it. Now let us start." Feeling a bit of competiveness rise up in him, he cast around for a category. "Hue: azure."

"Emerald." Her lips were curved in a faint half smile.

And that was how their simple game went. It distracted him that much was certain. For at times Arya would shoot off a word with such a ridiculous ending that it would take him a while to figure out what to say in response. And he had no doubt in his mind that she enjoyed seeing him struggle on the spot for more than fifteen minutes. By the time they were done, it was already well into the day. Night was almost falling.

"Let's stop here." Eragon said as he glanced up at the sky.

Arya nodded her mood lighter from besting him in the simple game that they played. Or it seemed that way to him, but he couldn't tell for sure. "This area seems like a good place as any to rest."

Without further ado, he settled onto the ground as Arya went to collect some firewood to make a small but warming fire. He raised a brow. "Why don't you use magic?" asked Eragon.

"I've grown used to doing it like this," she replied as she intricately stacked the wood atop each other. "Many humans within the Varden are afraid of magic. And after seventy years of living amongst them makes me grow to forget the ease in which to accomplish something by using magic."

He nodded. In a way, that did make sense. He watched as she lit the fire with the soft murmur of a word before the wood sparked. Within seconds, they had a nice crackling fire to gather warmth from.

As he sat there contemplating what Arya had just said, he began to grow curious at her past experiences. "How did you feel?"

She raised a brow at his question. He backtracked. "About living amongst humans?"

"How do _you _feel about living amongst elves?"

Eragon shrugged it was an honest question. How did he feel about living with the elves? A race so ancient and mythical it seemed more legend than reality. He could remember when he was a child he had read about their existence before he actually met them. It had really intrigued him as to how it was there was not even a glimpse of them. And now to be living with them seemed almost…

"You might not believe it," Eragon said softly, "but as a child I've always dreamed of Du Weldenvarden." He stared at the bright crackles of the fire. "In stories and books, I've read about it, a lush green forest that was a haven to the elves." A haven from Galbatorix.

"And what do you think of it now?" asked Arya from where she sat opposite of him. He didn't say, for he didn't know anymore. "It may surprise you how different we were before the fall of the riders. Now…even I find it somewhat odd to be around them again."

"Seven decades is a long time, even by your standards." Said Eragon, "You never answered my question though."

She remained silent for a while, giving him the impression that she might not ever answer his question. Then after a moment, she began to talk, her voice soft. "The first day I stood in the presence of so many humans, I thought I was standing amongst the midst of baboons."

He chuckled lightly, not expecting that as an answer from her, but could somewhat understand where she was coming from with that. "It was like an uncivilized nation compared to my people. The men smelled of sweat and gore and the women abided by a ridiculous rule of domesticity. The dependence one had on the other was nothing I've seen before. Growing up in Ellesmera, I've learned of various ideals and cultures but none as off-balancing as you humans."

Eragon couldn't help from smiling at her way of thinking. It seemed that once she got started on the topic, she couldn't let it go that easily. "But I've also come to learn many things that are never present here." Her gaze softened. "A strong bond of friendship between comrades, the love siblings had for one another always doting with affection, the open display of love amongst the young, a mother's love for her children…"

"Due in part of our short life span," said Eragon. "We die and conceive much easier than most of the other races here in Alagaesia."

"So it would seem." Arya agreed as she traced runes in the small patch of dirt beside her. "But I've always felt out of place there. The difference between our races was so great that it was hard to understand at first."

The fire crackled loudly as Eragon tossed a few blades of grass into it. Staring at the blades that remained in his fingers an idea occurred to him. He picked some blades of grass around him and began to weave them together as Arya continued speaking.

"It all seemed to come naturally to you," she said as if finally able to get a great burden off of her chest. "You didn't have to work at being who you were. There was no strict rule on mannerism in the presence of others. No need to give round about answers. There was a kindness that even strangers could feel."

"They in turn became used to my presence and the presence of my companions. We were always treated with respect and admiration when in truth we should be admiring them. Who else was fighting the brunt of this war for so long? Who else was it that stole the eggs from Uru'baen? Certainly not us."

"A quality that is somewhat of a flaw in us," Eragon said as he weaved the blades of grass between his fingers. "A capacity for a reckless amount of courage."

"Even so," Arya said her voice strong with conviction, "Though we may be talented in magic and skilled in swordsmanship-"

"And knowledgeable about the world." Eragon added.

She nodded, not fazed when he'd interrupted her as if deep in thought. "It is humans who can transcend God."

He stopped, momentarily caught off guard about what she'd said. What was Arya talking about? Her emerald green eyes rose to his bright ones. "Elves, dwarves, and sometimes even dragons, we don't see the need to prove anything, to do anything if it is out of our power. The resistance against Galbatorix was only strongest on the front of the humans. All we did is provide the supplies necessary and hide when we are stronger and more long-lived than humans were. It should've been we who robbed Galbatorix of his egg, who should've struck down the last of the Forsworn. But we did not. And we left these tasks to humans to accomplish, and they did so without the need of either our help or our magic."

"Why is that?" she spoke now more to herself than to him. "It was because of their emotions. Because of their short lives that propelled them to such achievements. Humans can make the impossible possible, look at Galbatorix for example. It's not a matter of rules or popular opinion that matters to them but what they believe is to be true in their hearts. And eventually they will become the victor in a struggle such as this."

"You've put much thought into this," observed Eragon as he continued his weaving. "I would've never thought of it that way before you spoke of it to me."

"I've had more time to dwell on this than you have," said Arya as she returned to stare at the flames. "I've seen things that you've never before seen, heard things that most will never hear. It has given me new perspectives on the outlook of life."

"I've always believed that one day I would be free of Uru'baen with Saphira and my mother," said Eragon as stared as his hands weaving the blades of grass. "I've always thought that it was a pointless dream. A passing though that would be carried away with the wind if I dwelled too much on it…but has it not come to pass? And so I too believe as you've said that humans can transcend not only God but their own sufferings and keep holding on to hope."

"Look at where it has gotten us," Eragon pointed out. "Three riders against Galbatorix in such a short span of time. Through all of the grief and sorrow that this war will bring to us by the conclusion of it, we'll greet a new dawn. With the hope for a better future."

She nodded. Finished with his object of fascination, he whispered a word in the ancient language and watched as it flew over to Arya. It was a small dragon made from grass that took flight in the air. A sorry comparison to Saphira and Eridor but he felt accomplished of himself more so than he did during anything else.

He watched as she reached up a hand to let it land on her upturned palm. It gave a roar that seemed like a squeak compared to what Saphira could do. He watched as it traveled the length of Arya's hand and to both of their amusement, curled up on her hand and refused to move anywhere else.

"That's odd," Eragon said as Arya placed it on the ground beside her despite its small yelp of protest.

"Usually when you animate an object, it takes on the mirror personality as the magician who'd cast the spell," explained Arya. He frowned not knowing whether or not to take that as an insult or compliment. "It could use some improvement."

"Thanks," said Eragon dryly. She nodded.

After her rather deep confession, he saw her in a new light. She wasn't just the princess of the elves or a fellow rider but to him he saw her for who she truly was and what she truly believed and for that reason, he admired her and what was more, he felt a strong desire to always stand by her. No matter what. He had never felt that way before towards others besides his mother, Saphira, and his servants he had to admit.

"Eragon," he turned towards Arya's voice. "Have you ever given any thought to Murtagh as a rider?"

He frowned, not expecting that sort of question from Arya. But to be honest, he didn't think that much of Murtagh since he'd arrived at the Varden. He hated his brother's simpleton attitude and foolish questions, but that was to be expected. Taking his silence as a refusal to answer her question, Arya grew stiff. "Forgive me if I overstepped any boundaries, Eragon."

He shook his head, "That's not it." He searched for words to describe it to her. "I don't know what I think of Murtagh. I've hated him for as long as I could remember. So it's odd to think of him as such." He thought more on it. "I believe that if we were to switch places, he would be no different than I would have been. But as a rider, he has come a long way."

He thought of the scar that Durza had left on Murtagh's back and felt remorse. "And I wish I could've done something about his wound." He breathed out. "If only I killed Durza before the battle."

"He isn't as weak as you think him to be," said Arya with a quick glance at the sleeping grass dragon. "You may not see it as clearly but he is trying his best to come on par with the both of us."

"No doubt that he's feeling insecure about his own abilities." Said Eragon with a soft sigh. "He'll see it eventually…he'll understand soon…"

Would Eragon be around long enough to see his brother finally reach the end of his long and arduous training to see the fruit of his labor? Maybe not. The way his mind was going, he might go crazy with madness before he would be able to see it happen and done with. But even though he didn't want to admit it to anyone, he hoped that Murtagh would be able to overcome the obstacles in his way and emerge newly found.

"Arya, can I ask you a favor?"

She nodded, her emerald eyes questioning. "I know I'm not in any place to request it of you after what I did, but…" he fought for words. "Help Murtagh for me, I don't want to see him become anything like I am." Unfit to help his friends, his family.

Arya stared at him for a moment and he thought that she was going to deny him but she slowly nodded. "I'll try my best…but it would be more effective if there was someone else watching as well."

He nodded, grateful. "I'll be doing my best as well." He hated to admit it, but he was worried for Murtagh. If he didn't make it through, he wanted Murtagh to be able to. Unconsciously, unaware that Arya was watching he brought his hand up to his right eye. Was it going to last before he left Ellesmera? Or would it fade?

Nevertheless, he had to try his hardest. He owed the people he cared about that much. He wasn't going to give up and die on the spot. Never. Not like how he thought before. He was going to survive. No matter what. Lowering his hand, he bowed his head towards Arya in a show of gratitude. "Eka elrun ono," said Eragon. _I thank you._

Her gaze softened. "It is but little consequence, Eragon."

"Still, I-" he stopped short. He had never had the need to rely on another before and this was so new to him, he didn't know where to begin.

"It is getting late," Arya said to save him from discomfort. "We should sleep; there is a long way to travel without the dragons to help us until the weather dies down."

"Yes," Eragon nodded grateful. He laid down on the soft ground, watching out of the corner of his eyes as Arya extinguished the flames before she too went to rest in her dream like state. And for some unknown reason, his heart clenched with longing. Eragon shook his head and turned over to sleep, letting his mind and body relax. He still had a long way to go.

**So what did you think of the chapter? I thought it was a pretty good heart to heart conversation but the bigger plot is just getting revealed. And I'm going to enjoy typing it for you all to read. Anyway I have good news, because I've worked out my temporary job that I really love as an assistant in mechanical engineering and college life everything has been going smoothly for the past month. Which means I will be likely to continue my regular updates which WILL NOT span five months but about two weeks.**


	32. Chapter 27

**I'm back again! I know it's a pretty fast update, that's just because Thanksgiving is coming up and I'm about to get ready and go on break. But anyways, just some things I'll like to address. One is that the dragons aren't mentioned much because of the plot of the story which will be revealed soon. But once it is, it will be dragon power. Two, I'm still going to write about the time travel Fanfic but only after I'm done with this one. Besides that, I just finished Inheritance and it was a good book, I was just disappointed in the ending I guess. I won't say anymore because I don't want to spoil it for anyone but anyways, happy reading!**

For the next few days, it seemed as if the weather was getting worse. It only served to disgruntle him even more than he already was, while Arya, though slightly annoyed with the constant winds and occasional downpour, showed no discomfort. It seemed to fit her to be out in nature instead of the high stone walls of Farthen Dur. It felt odd for him to say it, but he felt happy for her. He couldn't claim to know her before or during her capture, but he was sure that after being freed, she was much more relaxed and carefree. In that sense, he could compare to her. Ever since he left the accursed city of Uru'baen, he had felt much more alive.

One particular day when it was storming rather hard, he had ended up slipping on a puddle and falling into a stream that he didn't see at first, and would have been washed away were it not for his quick reflexes. Arya had laughed at his mishap, describing it, and him, as clumsy. Normally, if it were anyone else, he would've snapped a response of a few rather rude phrases, but he refrained as it was Arya who was laughing. He didn't mind, for some reason, that she found her happiness at his expense.

He took in a deep breath, letting the smell of fresh air and the different odors around him to float through his nose and to his brain. One good thing about a storm: it also smelled so nice and fresh afterwards. Or at least, it seemed that was the case to him. Eragon couldn't tell whether or not Arya would agree with him, but she looked rather glad for the sun to finally regain its position high in the sky, chasing the dark and gloomy clouds away. Saphira and Eridor would soon catch up to them, and from that point, their trip to Oromis's hut would be fast approaching. He didn't know whether or not he should be glad at that prospect.

"The weather is rather nice today." Said Eragon conversationally, glad that his boots were rid of the disgusting muck that had clung to it on days on end.

"That it is," agreed Arya as she guided Eragon up a rather steep hillside that seemed to disrupt the even balance of the ground. He easily climbed it with her, fatigue not a problem, for he was well rested from last few days. His illness was held at bay with odd and puzzling words games that would form between them and also by the stories that Arya would occasionally tell him to fill in the time. The latter he found more interesting and at the same time, entertaining.

There was one story that he found particularly riveting. As they walked, she spoke of a young man granted with the power of beauty by a traveling magician whom he had saved. And for some reason, the majority of the stories she told him usually ended with a sad note or a rather ironic one. This particular one was a combination of both.

"Women fell to his feet," Arya said as they walked, "Men revered him and children admired him. Everything was like a dream to him. How could a peasant boy, like he, have so much? Gifts from admirers, love from women all around him, and attention from the whole populace." He nodded, following her as she spoke. "But eventually it began to suffocate him. After some time, he'd begun to see the fake life that he was leading, but by the time he'd realized what had happened to him he was already too deeply involved with it. What the magician had given him was a curse. Overcome with madness, he mutilated himself, carving his skin with a sharp knife and rendered his beauty into a grotesque imitation of what he used to look like. In the end, he fled the city and died in isolation in the woods."

Eragon made a slight face at the ending. He scratched the back of his head, not knowing what to say to the boy's fate. It was rather odd. "That does make sense…" he said slowly. It was true; he could follow what she was saying. But it was rather…

"That is what one should remember: to be cautious when they are endowed with great beauty." Arya said wisely. Eragon raised a brow at her.

"It doesn't seem to be affecting you that much." Eragon observed. He never let it sway him but Arya was undeniably beautiful. Her angled eyes, her long lustrous ebony hair, and slender physique that belied her formidable strength were enough to draw any man to her.

A fleeting emotion flashed in her eyes but it was gone the second after leaving him really wondering whether or not it was there. She turned to face forward waving his comment away dismissively. "You've yet to meet the most beautiful of my kind," said Arya unconcerned with his indirect compliment.

He felt amused at her blatant refusal to accept it. Maybe it was her pride. He couldn't think of anything else that might cause her to refuse. Shrugging to himself, he waited for Arya to speak once more. But when it was evident that she was not going to, he decided to take the lead in the conversation now. "Arya…" she turned to look at him. "I've been meaning to ask you, what does the tattoo on your back represent?"

Her expression became one of seriousness. "It doesn't surprise me that you know about it," said Arya, referring to the time that he had healed her skin after enduring brutalizing torture under Durza. "Not many are wise to its existence so I ask that you refrain from speaking of it to anyone else." He nodded, prompting her to continue. "It is called the yawe and it symbolizes devotion to my race. Those who take up the yawe have dedicated their lives to our cause, an obligation that we don't take lightly to."

That would make sense. After all, Arya was a person who never shirked from her duties. It didn't seem like her and in the little time that he has known her, one trait about her that stood out greatly was her determination and responsibility. But not only did she have a duty to her people, but also the riders, for she was a dragon rider herself. After all the war was finished, and assuming they all survived, which would she choose? It was a thought to contend with. But the more he thought of it, the more he realized that he couldn't answer that question himself. What would he do after this was over? If he was still alive that is. Galbatorix doesn't take too lightly to treason.

"Do you believe we can do this, Arya?" Eragon asked, for the first time sharing his doubts about the war with the Black King. She glanced at him, somewhat caught off guard at his question. Her pace slowed until the two of them came to a stop, facing each other. He waited as she debated his question.

"It is too early to say," she said after a moment. "But the odds are slightly to our advantage don't you agree? We have three—no, _four_ riders against Galbatorix. Once we face him," her eyes flashed. "If we ever do, it will surely give him pause. Other then that, I cannot say, for he no doubt has many devices hidden from view."

Eragon nodded. That was right, she didn't know. He was positive that Islanzadi and Oromis were the only ones that held any knowledge of importance. "I believe," Eragon said quietly as he took the lead "that we can accomplish it. If we don't then the whole of Alagaesia will be deprived of any hope."

"It is a sad thought," Arya said with a sigh. "All the more fitting that we should prepare ourselves against the worst that is to come."

Later that day, Arya refused to go any further until she had a chance to bathe herself of all the dirt and filth from the past days' travel. When she went off to find a small stream to bathe, he decided to cook something for them to eat that night. Before they had left the dragons, Eragon had taken some of the provisions that she had packed with him in case they couldn't find anything to eat. Deciding on onion soup, he brought forth the water from the ground and placed it in the sack that Arya had thoughtfully decided to bring along with her. The last few days, he had let Arya do the cooking, but it was high time he did his share. As he was looking into the water, in a tranquil state of solitude, it began to happen. Without the presence of Arya by his side, there was nothing he could do to distract himself.

As he stared into his reflection, it began to change until he found himself staring at a monster of himself. It looked like him but his eyes were an ice cold blue and violet. He grinned, a menacing grin, baring a row of pointed teeth that resembled an animal. _Eragon…_

He stared at the reflection, unmoving. It couldn't be. _What's wrong, Eragon? Are you afraid? You can't escape me. Do not think that Arya can stop your transformation. It's just beginning. Don't you see it? _Eragon blinked, a sick feeling penetrating his stomach. All around him, the colors began to fade as if it were like a wet painting dripping its colors down the canvas. And instead of a beautiful forest, he was kneeling in a red dimension that twisted and turned around his eyes. Ever shifting, ever changing. He stared at his distorted reflection, wary and cautious of what his mind was doing to him. Or was it reality?

Either way, he couldn't tell for sure. _Don't deny it. You and I are the same. _His image continued. _You can never get rid of me and it's pointless to even entertain such a pathetic thought, _Shadeslayer_._ He was mocking him. But what he was saying were not lies. In fact, Eragon knew that no matter how hard he tried, he could never rid himself of his own inner darkness, a darkness that had warped itself into its own identity. Two identities chained into one body.

_You know it yourself, don't you? _His distorted image continued its grin, ever stretching until he achieved a demented look that was starved with an insatiable hunger. He gasped as a dark stirring erupted in his chest; it was constricting his thoughts and feelings. _Stop lying to yourself Eragon…_

"I'm not." It angered him that his shadow was able to get a response out of him easily.

In return his image laughed at his reflection showing a long red tongue that was uncanny of a human to have. After a moment he quieted, licking his lips with his tongue like Saphira after she ate. _You don't belong here. No, you belong out in the battlefield…you feel it too don't you? The need to kill…the need to rip flesh from flesh…_

"That's enough," he made to stand not in the mood to continue talking to his reflection. The world around him began to become more compressed and distorted as if it was trying to cage him in.

_Rip off this fake skin Eragon. Take up your true role in this reality that is called life and realize your true potential._

A chord struck in him and he stood there for a while his shoulders slumped his head bowed as that phrase ran through his head without stop. _Rip off this fake skin…_Just thinking about it made his flesh itch. _Take up my true role…_What was he talking about? Not moving from his spot, he stood there, letting the world around him continue to distort and contract. And just a little, the darkness in his heart grew. It was right, he didn't belong here. Not amongst the elves, not even amongst the Varden. There was nowhere he could go besides back to Galbatorix's accursed castle. And he'd rather never return there.

_No! _He couldn't think like this. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath before opening them once more. The emerald green of the leaves dazzled him slightly as they filtered sunlight through their small gaps. It was just his mind playing a hallucination on him that was all. There was nothing else to it. Glancing back at the water that waited for him to cook, he sighed and bent down to boil it. After a while, Arya came to rejoin him, her hair slightly wet but other than that she looked cleaned and refreshed from her bath.

He was sitting cross legged, eating the onion soup he made with the small wooden bowl and spoon that she had packed. Arya sat opposite him as she usually did when they ate and poured herself some soup while glancing at him curiously. "Are you alright Eragon?"

He glanced up at her, trying to feign his normal appearance. "I'm fine, is there something wrong?"

She shook her head. "No, it's just-" catching herself she turned to her soup and ever so calmly began to eat. He raised a brow at her sudden change in attitude before finishing his own share. Once done, he set the bowl aside.

"The dragons should catch up after another day's time," observed Eragon as he stared up at the sky. "At least if this weather keeps up." She nodded, a quick movement of her head. "Then we'll make head way to Oromis."

The thought of it made his hand slightly shake, for he knew that Queen Islanzadi would be there waiting as well. And this time, there would be no more secrets nor could there be. As he sat there thinking to himself, he stared up at the leaves around him. For a good part of his life, he had spent it within the confines of stone walls and vaulted rooms. But being out in nature seemed to be doing him some good. For one, he wasn't irritable as easily anymore. He would even go as far to say that he liked living out in the trees. It was peaceful, and wherever he went, there would always be life. He wouldn't be alone.

"Eragon…"

"Hmm?" his eyes met hers, and for some reason he felt utterly relaxed despite knowing of the confrontation that was going to happen soon enough. Maybe he had grown to accept his fate no matter how harsh it was.

"If you don't mind me asking but…how does Galbatorix look like?" her eyes gleamed with a strange light. "I've heard in stories and read through books though I doubt that the descriptions are even close to how he really appears."

Eragon frowned. It was odd that Arya would be the first to ask him such a question. Come to think of it why didn't anyone else ask him? The answer presented itself to him the more he thought of it. Because he was too frightening of a person to approach. "It depends," said Eragon. "Galbatorix doesn't keep an image for long. When he feels that it is time to change himself, he doesn't only change his mind and beliefs but as well as his appearance. Since I've left him, I wouldn't now whether or not he still looks the same. But there's one thing I can tell you, he is as intimidating as the stories say he is."

She nodded, taking it all in with good stride. "So that's how it is." Murmured Arya softly. "I would never have thought him to take up such a practice."

"Does it surprise you?"

"No, it just does more to reinforce the fact that he is cowardly." That was when he realized what was at the heart of her question.

"It's for your father isn't it?" Eragon asked softly.

Her eyes were bright as she gently placed her empty wooden bowl on the ground. "Part of it." She admitted with such honesty that it threw Eragon off. But then again, Arya was much more forward than any other elf he had met. Well, besides, Rhunon. It was obvious how much she loved her father, King Evandar. It made him think of…he frowned; now was not the time to be stuck in the past.

"My father was kind and gentle," said Arya softly. It was an odd match when he thought of her father and Queen Islanzadi as mates. But he had no right to judge; he didn't know the queen before the Fall of the Riders, so he could not speak of such things. "He devoted his entire life to our cause, always valiant, always willing. But that day that I heard of his fall by Galbatorix, it changed my entire life. My mother was left to rule our people while I…" she stopped unable to go on.

He sat there waiting, not going to push her to finish. But as she spoke, it made him think about his own relationship to his father. It was strained and distant. "So you became an ambassador for your race in hopes to avenge him?" Eragon said quietly, trying to end her inner struggle with herself.

She nodded. "Not only my father, but also for others whom I've lost to him." Seemingly regaining her composure, she continued, her voice strong and steady. That was the Arya he knew. "And when I was chosen by Eridor, it was everything that I could have hoped for. Since I carried Thorn's egg, I had always wished to become a dragon rider to avenge my father and to protect my people. It wasn't until Eridor hatched for me that my dream became reality."

He felt himself smile faintly at her confession. That was how he had also felt when Saphira had hatched for him. "And I owe my thanks to you, Eragon, for allowing me to become his rider."

"He still would've chosen you."

"If he was ever freed from captivity or if I survived long enough to carry him." Corrected Arya. He frowned, never taking into account that Arya was susceptible to death. She was too strong for him to even think that she might not make it out of this war alive. The strange emotion that had manifested itself within him when he'd first met Arya had grown over time.

He wasn't going to let her die. Not now, not ever. His life didn't mean much to him, but her life did, as well as his mother's, Saphira's, and his servants'.

_Now, now Eragon. _He blinked, and as it did before, the world around him began to shift and change into a bloody red vision. And this time, it was stronger than before, pressing in on his weak defenses that he had let drop while he was conversing with Arya. _You can't die yet._

A searing pain erupted in his mind as he stood, turning on the spot as if expecting someone to jump out at him. Why was it so different from before? Why did it hurt so much now? _You shouldn't be so relaxed…it makes your mind easier to constrict._ A demented laugh erupted in his ears, ringing and echoing with such consistency, he brought his hands up to block out the sound. But to no avail.

It kept on ringing. Eyes widening in pain, he grimaced. "Make the noise stop." He muttered to no one in particular.

_It's broken Eragon…you can't fix it._

It was too noisy. He couldn't stand it. Suddenly a claw like hand reached out to grip his arm. It had long distorted fingers and when he glanced up at the owner of the hand, he took a step back as blood ruby eyes met his. What was that?

"Eragon," it spoke, its voice guttural and rough.

_Are you afraid Eragon? _The voice rang again. _If you are than just kill it. Something dead can't harm you anymore._

"No, stop…" Eragon murmured weakly. What was happening to him? He needed to get to Oromis's, he needed help.

"Eragon…" the monster spoke again, reaching forward towards him. Eragon took another step back, causing the voice in his mind to laugh. There was too much noise. Everything was overlapping each other, and he couldn't take it anymore. Standing there with his hands pressed over his ears, his eyes tried to find an opening from the distorted realm in which he stood. But there wasn't any.

_There's no escape Eragon._

"Eragon…"

_You can't run from your fate._

Not being able to take the pain anymore, he drew his mind into himself, shielding his mentality from the outside world. All around him, the red began to spin and distort as the voices grew louder and more encompassing. Gratefully, he was glad when everything began to fade out into black, leaving behind a quiet solitude.

And in it, there was no noise.

There was nothing.

**So, how was the chapter? I was so excited to get this posted! Soon enough I can finally write about the conflict and all that. But I will be getting another chapter up soon enough. Hopefully really fast since I have a vacation coming up meaning free time to type! I'll see you all next time! And don't forget to review!**


	33. Chapter 28

**So I had this finished a few days ago but I never uploaded it because I wanted my Beta to check it out. Though for some reason, I wasn't able to get a hold of him. So I decided to upload it today :) (Please don't hate me Beta!) I thought it would be enough time for you all to have waited. This chapter I had some difficulties but other wise it went smoothly. Please review!**

_Where was he? Standing in the middle of the street, Eragon glanced upwards. His eyes widened as he saw the crescent moon in the shape of a dragon whose large red eyes were staring down at him. What was this place? Walking forward cautiously, he tried to see through the fog that covered the city. But he couldn't make anything out more than three feet away from him. This place, the more he took it in, the more it seemed familiar to him. Emerging onto a main street, his heart stopped when looming overhead was the citadel of Uru'baen. It can't be. Why was he here? Where was Ellesmera? Turning away from the castle, he made for the opposite end but not matter how much he walked the street kept on stretching further and further. There was no end to it._

"_Keep going Eragon_," _he murmured to himself. As he kept walking, he felt beyond aggravated as the street kept on stretching out before him. But eventually it began to come to an end. Just barely through the fog he could see a large bulking figure guarding the gate out of Uru'baen. _What was that? _Slowing down his pace, he cautiously approached the figure._

_As it came into view surprise seeped through his body. Lying curled up before the city gates was Saphira. But how was she here as well? Taking a closer glance at her, he felt confusion trickle through his mind as he caught sight of a metal collar around her throat chaining her to the ground as if she was a dog. Why would she be like that? Angered at whoever did that to her he approached enraged. Hearing his loud footsteps she woke from her sleep. He reached out to her with his mind. _Saphira, what's going on?

_She didn't respond, instead she blinked at him, her expression growing fierce and savage. Opening her jaws she let forth a defying roar. Startled, he held his ground as she made to her feet. Then to his surprise something happened that he never thought would. She opened her jaws and instead of fire that came out, it was something entirely different. "You are not allowed to pass!" she roared her voice fierce. He blinked caught of guard. Did she just verbally speak? "No one is allowed outside of the city and that goes for the likes of you as well."_

"_Saphira, I don't understand," he fumbled for the right words not sure what to think anymore. "What's going on? Where are we?"_

_She came forward as if not hearing him and said, "No one is allowed pass! Get back elf!"_

_He jumped back as a torrent of flames sprouted from between her jaws nearly burning her alive. He felt sweat coat his face from the heat and his heart race. What was Saphira doing? Though he wanted to stay and try to see what was wrong with her, his mind thought against it. This wasn't right. Nothing here was._

_Turning back the way he went he ran as far as he could for Saphira was fighting at her chain to reach closer to him. He didn't understand. What was wrong with her? Why was he in Uru'baen? And where was Arya? But as he was preoccupied with his thoughts he didn't realize that the way he was running back was different from the way that he came. He slowed to a slow walk not understanding what was going on. "Didn't I just come from this way?" he murmured to no one in particular._

"_Did you?"_

_He turned, startled, to the source of the voice. Sitting on a stone bench in the middle of the street was Murtagh. His dark hair was windswept and his blue eyes were a piercing quality. His initial alarm was swept aside with a slight air of relief. "Murtagh, what are you doing here?"_

_He shrugged. "I wanted to sit down and this was the only place to do so."_

"_But why are we in Uru'baen?" asked Eragon, still confused._

"_I'm here because of you," answered Murtagh with a smile that was unlike him. He paused before continuing, "Why are you here, Eragon?"_

"_I don't know why, I just found myself here." Said Eragon slowly, more to himself than to Murtagh. That was true, wasn't he just with Arya? Then why was he standing in the middle of Uru'baen? Was it magic? Or was everything a dream? "Where's Thorn?"_

"_Thorn?" his brother grinned. "He's eating some apples."_

"_Apples?" Dragons didn't part take in fruit, or that was what Eragon thought for Saphira always preferred a deer over a basket of fruits. "Is he here? Is he safe?"_

_Murtagh stared at him and for some reason Eragon found it unnerving. Then he began to lightly chuckle. "So many questions Eragon." He said with a small gesture of his hands. "You ask questions that I don't have the answer to. Why don't you think more about it? You know, you just don't see it yet."_

"_Don't give me riddles," said Eragon slightly annoyed. "Tell me the reason why you're here."_

_He just continued to chuckle with a light shake of his head. "Say how have you been lately?" Eragon didn't answer. "Oh, I see how it is. Then let me ask this: are things going well between you and Arya? She seems to care greatly for you."_

_Eragon remained quiet but Murtagh's words pierced his like an arrow to his flesh. He didn't know what to say. How would he describe the relationship that he had with her? They were companions…and friends. There was nothing else to it but as the thoughts crossed his mind he felt his heart twinge with disappoint. And for some reason a sad tenderness for the Elvin princess. There was nothing of that sort between the two of them…was there?_

_As he glanced back up to where Murtagh was sitting, he felt surprised when he found the bench empty. "Murtagh?" he called into the gloom. No response. Where did he go to? Slowly making his way up to the bench, he frowned. There was nothing. No sign that anyone had sat on it. Was he really here or did Eragon imagine it?_

_Not trusting what he was seeing anymore, he made his way around the bench and continued to walk down the street that twisted and curved about the gray buildings that were devoid of life. And after a while he came to a stop where the path was split into three directions. Which direction would he choose? Maybe he could go back and sneak past Saphira…_

"_Are you lost?" Eragon whirled about, there standing behind him was Desdemona. It was one surprise after the other._

"_Desdemona…"Eragon began but he stopped himself. If this place was anything that he came to think it was, she probably wouldn't recognize him. "Do you know the way out of this place?"_

_She nodded giving him a warm smile that was at the same time like her but yet unlike her. "Through the gate," she said simply._

"_But Saphira is guarding it."_

"_I'll show you the way." Reaching out with her hand she gripped his, and instead of pulling in the direction towards the gate, she took the road to the left._

"_Wait, this isn't the way." Eragon protested as she dragged him along._

"_It is, trust me." He pursed his lips not knowing what to say to that. In reality, he trusted her with his life. But he couldn't trust her at the moment for he didn't know who she was or what she was intending._

"_Stop!" that voice…stopping Eragon turned to find a small boy standing behind him. "You can't follow her."_

"_What?" he asked, staring at the boy who resembled someone Eragon couldn't place. He was young with brown hair and soft chestnut eyes. He wore brown breeches and a white tunic. "Why not?"_

"_She's leading you the wrong way."_

_Eragon turned to stare at Desdemona. She smiled revealing a row of pointed teeth, her eyes becoming red. Pulling his hand away, he bent his knees ready in case of an attack. But instead, her skin began to eat away at itself, turning black before fading away to dust. "Desdemona!" but she was gone. Eyes wide, he found himself staring off into space in shock. What was going on? Was this real? Did she…die?_

_He turned back to the boy. "What's going on?" Eragon demanded. "What's happening?"_

_He didn't answer. Frustrated Eragon pushed forward with his questions. "How do I leave this place?"_

"_Through the gate," he answered. "But it's not that easy."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because you have to remember the place you have to return to."_

"_Return?"_

_The boy nodded. "That's right, return. Just think about it deep down in your heart and it'll come to you."_

"_But how do I get there?"_

"_Through the gate."_

_Gate…but Saphira was guarding the gate. Turning to stare back down the road he sighed. Hopefully it wouldn't change as he walked down there. "Alright then, I'll go through the gate." Eragon said to the boy. He turned to face the kid but like Murtagh he'd disappeared. Not letting it bother him, he continued down the street towards the direction of the gate, hopefully._

_The street like before was endless and it stretched for miles on end. But he kept on going knowing that at the end the gates would wait for him. As he walked he was alert of his surroundings. Everything was what he remembered of Uru'baen but at the same time it wasn't. Though he couldn't place the difference. And it irritated him to no end._

_The fog around him began to shift revealing the large bulk of Saphira sleeping on the ground, her body guarding the gates. Forcing himself to walk around her, he stood staring at the gates. _Think Eragon, _he told himself. _Where am I supposed to return? _The beam holding the gate closed moved of its own accord lifting itself up as if suspended by magic and in turn the gates swung forward. Eragon walked forward not chancing a glance back. Wherever this was going to lead him, he would follow it._

_As he walked, the whiteness around him began to shift forming a castle…This couldn't be…The next thing he knew was that he was standing on the roof of what was once his castle that he lived in. "Am I supposed to return here?"_

_No, that wasn't true. He belonged with the Varden now._

_As he thought of what to do next, his eyes could make out the figure of someone standing on the edge of the roof. Who was that? He approached, slowly and quietly, the figure standing there. Nearing, he was able to make out black leather clothing and beautiful brown hair. Eragon stopped dead. "Mother!"_

_She turned to him, her expression blank, and her eyes devoid of any emotion. "So you've finally come back to me."_

"_I've never left," said Eragon reaching out to her with his hands. "Come back from there it's dangerous!"_

"_Never left?" she repeated. "Don't lie to me, Eragon. You left me, and I've waited for so long for you to return. I can't remember anymore. Your father and your brother waited for you too. But you didn't seem to care for this family as much as I thought you did."_

"_I don't understand! Haven't I've always been by your side?" asked Eragon with a violent wave of his hand._

"_Your body was but not your heart."_

_He stared at her, his mouth agape. What was she talking about? While he stood there shell shock, she gave him a sad smile. "I'm tired of waiting, Eragon." And with that she fell._

_His body reacted immediately, running to catch her, his heart stopped when she fell out of reach of his fingers and to her death. "Mother!" Lying on the ground with her eyes closed and her body at an odd angle was his mother. "No…It can't be…"_

_Unable to comprehend it, he fell to his knees in shock. His mother couldn't be dead. She just couldn't. After all his life, after all those years…He couldn't let her die! "You don't belong here." It was that boy!_

_Eragon didn't turn to face him but instead continued to gaze down at the body of his mother. "Think Eragon, where is it that you should return to?"_

"_I don't know anymore."_

"_Just think, Eragon."_

_Closing his eyes, he tried to think of a place…any place but this place. Once he opened them again, a wooden door stood before him. It wasn't attached to anything else. It just stood there detached and unnatural to the surrounding. He stood there unsure of himself and whether or not to enter the doorway. He glanced back down at his mother and unable to take it anymore, he opened the door blinding him with light. As he emerged onto the other side, it swung shut behind him disappearing from reality._

_Instead of the gray buildings of Uru'baen or the thick fog, Eragon found himself standing in what seems to be the forest of Du Weldenvarden. Had he made it back? Taking tentative steps forward, he jumped when a light voice called to him. "Have you found out where you should return, Eragon?"_

_Sitting up on a branch at least fifty feet in the air was Arya. But he was sure that like the rest of the people in this world that he'd met that she wasn't the real one. Who she was eluded him. "Whatever you're saying doesn't make sense. Where am I supposed to return to?"_

_A breeze gently lifted a few strands of her long ebony hair. "To that question, I do not know the answer." She said with a soft smile. "It lies within you, not about you. Think about it more carefully this time. Where should you return?"_

_Even though this wasn't the real Arya, he took her advice to heart and stood there trying to image a place in which he was needed. Blocking out everything else, he thought of his family and his servants. He thought of their happiness that he was a part of, his older brother Murtagh and his disability…his mother and her unguarded defense, Saphira and their eternal bond, and most of all Arya and her isolation. It wasn't a location in which he should return to but wherever they were. Feeling a calm settled over him, he glanced back up at Arya to find her still sitting there waiting for an answer._

"_Have you found it?"_

_For the first time, he smiled and nodded. "I have."_

_Her smile was bright as she stood on the tree branch. "Then leave and return to where you belong, Eragon." With that she left dancing from branch to branch until the emerald leaves blocked her from his view. Thinking of the door, he was glad that it appeared before him like it did last time. It was time to leave this place._

_Reaching forward towards the knob, he grimaced when a barrier met his hand. _What?_ "Do you actually believe that I'll let you go that easily, Eragon?" He jumped back when the door burst into flames. All around him, the trees began to die and the flowers wither. "I've finally got you right where I want you."_

"_Let me out of here."_

"_Let you out?" the voice mocked._

_Eragon turned to find his shadow standing behind him in the now dead forest. Eragon frowned, out of the corner of his eyes, he could see shapes and shadows move about but what they were he wasn't sure. "I'm tired of playing this mind game."_

"_Game?" his shadow continued with a grin. "I can assure you, Eragon. This is reality."_

"_Reality?"_

"_Don't play dumb with me." His shadow's eyes narrowed and his smile faded. "It's time for you to surrender to me!" He disappeared. Eragon scowled. Bending his knees in case he had to jump, he grunted when a sharp elbow to his gut sent him sprawling into the ground. _He was faster! _"Time to end this game!"_

_Unable to dodge out of the way, he laid there stunned. Was this really the end? But as his shadow came flying to him, a wave of gold and green magic came spiraling into him knocking him backwards. His shadow fell to the ground, seemingly knocked out of breath. _Think Eragon…Think…_Immediately the door appeared to him. Hurriedly getting to his feet despite the pain, he ran for it and yanked it open despite the pain in his right hand. Falling into the blinding light, relief washed over him as the door closed, locking away his shadow._

_Was this the end?_

"Are you awake, Eragon?" tiredly blinking, he frowned when a hazy vision came over him. Where was he? Recognizing the room and the cot in which he sat, it immediately dawned to him that he was in Oromis's hut. His vision coming into focus, he glanced around to find Oromis sitting on a stool close by his face covered by a sheen of sweat. And not far off was to his shock Queen Islanzadi. The silence that settled over them was so thick it was suffocating. It was only when he heard the small drip of something that he glanced down to find his right hand bleeding profusely. Eragon stared at the broken flesh and the dripping dark red liquid. He couldn't find the words to cure his own hand any more.

"_Waise heill_." A green light enveloped his hand and a tingling feeling erupted throughout his entire body. The broken flesh came together to make a thin layer of new, red skin. The magic was much like Arya's but more potent, more alien to him.

He tiredly glanced at the queen, and speaking in the ancient language murmured his thanks. Then glancing to Oromis, he asked, "How long have I've been here?"

The elder elf turned his gaze to him which had been fixed on a spot on his wooden hut. No doubt he was conversing to Glaedr. "Two days." His frown deepened. "Arya had bought you back along with the dragons two days ago and you've yet to awaken from your stupor until now."

Two days. Was it really that long that he'd been asleep? "So, Saphira has told you about my condition?"

He suddenly felt the familiar and warm mind of hers touch and envelop his. It had been so long. Allowing her entrance, he mentally sighed at the calming effect her presence had over him. He'd missed her greatly. _It's been quite some time that I've touched your mind, little one. _Her deep voice vibrated through his mind.

_It has been some time. I've missed you, Saphira._

_And I you, _her thoughts though warm they may be turned to the situation at hand. _I've told them about your condition but it would be best if you can further explain to them. It's time to let go of your pride and ask for help. They may be the only ones who can help us now, Eragon._

Knowing what she said was true; he straightened his back and lifted his head to face them, his gaze unwavering. "Saphira has told us of your condition," Queen Islanzadi said it with a frown on her face and again he was struck with the realization that she resembled Arya. "But I would like to hear it from you myself, Eragon Shadeslayer."

He nodded, putting aside his fatigue, he began to speak. "When I was a child," he began in the ancient language, fluid and smooth. "And Saphira had hatched for me; he had sought a way to have my loyalty. But the two of you know as well as I do that children usually don't retain their true name as they age but that it changes over time. Galbatorix knew, of that I'm certain." He smiled humorlessly. "He was unable to obtain my loyalty for no matter what torturous devices he conjured, Saphira and I _endured_ them to the best of our abilities like Arya had under Durza's tortures." At this Queen Islanzadi stiffened, her emerald eyes narrowed giving her an evil look. "But it wasn't enough; I didn't want to see her suffer anymore. She was ever strong, ever resilient. I wanted a way to save her, to save my dragon."

Everything around him became agonizingly bright. _Eragon…If you would rather not talk about it-_

_No, I can. I have to; it's not just about the two of us anymore, Saphira._

From outside the hut, he could hear her saddened huff, near a whimper. "So I did what I could. And I gave Galbatorix half of my heart, half of my soul." The expressions on their faces said to him that Saphira had yet to tell them of this part.

"Half of your heart?" asked Oromis, his expression pale. "Impossible…"

Eragon shook his head. "If dragons can, what makes humans unable to?"

Queen Islanzadi's expression changed from shock to one of imperious authority. "So you know about them." It was more of a statement than a question.

"If you're referring to the Eldunari, then yes, I do." He forced himself to hold her stare, unmoved by the darkness of her gaze. "Does it surprise you to that extent? I served under Galbatorix for most of my life. He has enslaved hundreds of them to do his bidding. And some, when I was in contact with them seem to stand between the edge of madness and sanity. He has broken them."

The two of them sat there staring at them after a while, he nearly jumped when he heard Glaedr's mournful keen for his brethren. Oromis held a saddened gaze while to his initial surprise; Queen Islanzadi's eyes were covered with a film of tears. "I've always suspected," she murmured, "but to hear it from one such as you…"

"We can do little to help them, Islanzadi." Said Oromis despite the grief etched onto his face and for a moment Eragon saw that his master was truly sick at the heart of the news that he'd brought. _I can't seem to break this cycle of sadness._

_Do not say that, Eragon, _Saphira reprimanded. _We knew that this was to come if we didn't tell them they would eventually find out one way or another. Better to tell them now than in a situation that becoming emotional could destroy them._

"Eragon," he glanced up at Oromis's voice.

"Yes, master." Eragon said.

"Your heart, how did he take half of your heart?" he asked his face one of utter concern and kindness. Eragon glanced at his hands as he thought of a way to put it into words. After a moment he glanced back up taking a deep breath from the back of his throat.

"He used the power of the Eldunari to assist him for he didn't know how to truly separated the soul from the body of a human. And they did but as they took half of my soul, they had to replace it for one could not live with only half." Said Eragon with a scowl. "To replace the half of my soul, Galbatorix with the use of the Eldunari entrapped a spirit and connect it to my body to keep me from dying."

Saphira growled from where she laid outside the hut.

"A spirit?" asked Oromis beside himself. He tiredly rubbed a hand over his face. "The extent of that magic, it must have required much research and preparation. To think that Galbatorix could think of such a thing. And you, Eragon, is that the reason why you've been acting so hostile and irrational?"

He glanced away ashamed of himself. _Eragon, tell them. They aren't here to scold you, not even Queen Islanzadi. _"My soul," Eragon began, "or what's left of my soul isn't strong enough to keep the spirit locked away. When I served Galbatorix he would keep the spirit at bay with his spells and enchantments but I don't know myself how to do it. Eventually my entire mind and body will succumb to him."

"These enchantments, do you know the words to them?" asked Oromis.

Eragon shook his head. "When he cast them, I'm usually to far gone to remember them. There are times in my memory that are blank and white."

"So you will die if we were to remove this spirit from your body?" Islanzadi asked.

Eragon nodded. "A body can't live with only half a heart, half a soul. If I don't find a way to subdue him then I will eventually sink into his madness and lose control of myself." He glanced towards the wall of the hut where Saphira laid next to unable to see her. "Saphira has been trying her best to keep me sane with her own soul but she can only do so much for when the spirit takes control of my body it hurts her through our connection."

They sat there, quiet and tense, the new knowledge of his condition settling over them. Oromis was beside himself, his brows furrowed and his expression a frown. No doubt he was trying to think of a way to help Eragon out of his predicament. On the other hand, Queen Islanzadi sat there with a look of deep concentration. Even they couldn't help him.

_I refuse!_ He jumped when he heard Saphira roar in his mind. _I won't let you die, Eragon. Never! We've come this far, we're finally free of Galbatorix; I'm not going to let your life end here. I don't care what I have to do or where I have to go. I'll fly the span of Alagaesia if that's what it takes to save you._

_Saphira, _he was moved by her declaration. _I'm trying too; I don't want to die either. I won't leave you here all by yourself nor my family. I'm sure there's an answer to this. I'm positive that we can find a way if we look hard enough. Let's look for it together._

_No matter what, I will save you._

He turned back to Oromis and Queen Islanzadi to find them standing. "Eragon," it was Oromis who spoke. "Islanzadi and I have thought of a way to help you but for it to work I need you to open your mind to us."

He stared at the queen wary of her presence but he was in no position of decline their offer. Doing as he was told he opened his mind to them. Oromis's presence he had grown used to but Queen Islanzadi's was alien and powerful, and all the encompassing. He stood there waiting from them to search through his mind for whatever it was the they were looking for. He didn't know how long the three of them stood rooted to their spot but Oromis spoke again, this time with his mind. _Remain still Eragon and do not put up your defenses or else this will not work._

_Yes, master._

He waited for them to carry out whatever it was that they'd planned. As he stood there, he felt something grip at a string in his mind and then to his surprise severed the connection. Forcing himself to keep from throwing up his barriers he remained still.

_One of the chains slipped from his hand and returned to the white tomb._

As they withdrew their minds he let out a breath, spewing dark red blood onto the floor before him. "This is too dangerous of an approach," he vaguely heard Oromis say as he straightened, holding a hand to his chest to steady his heartbeat. "Another one and we can stop his heart altogether."

"What other way is there?"

"We need to wait until the Agaeti Blodhren, maybe the answer will present itself to us then." Oromis said, his voice holding a note of finality. Feeling a strong grip on his arm, he allowed him to guide Eragon to his cot and lay him down. "Rest Eragon, you will feel better in the morning."

He nodded taking his advice and closed his eyes allowing sleep to come to him despite the fact that he was asleep for two days. A soothing warmth enveloped his mind and he was glad to know that Saphira was keeping his mind safe for him. He wasn't going to lose hope.

Because there was a place that he needed to return to.

**I want to read thoughts! I know that some of you have expected a rather ROAR confrontation but I wanted a quiet and slightly subdued one. (I'm selfish) Well technically because I don't have a feel for Islanzadi's and Oromis's personalities. But other than that I'm somewhat proud of this chapter though slightly insecure. I hope you've all like it! Oh, and this chapter was longer than the rest because I felt the need to indulge you readers from time to time and please don't mind the typos! I'm sure there are some!**


	34. Chapter 29

**Okay everyone! The next chapters up! And I have some very good news, I have two chapters already done and edited, courtesy of my Beta, and it's waiting to be uploaded onto . However, I shall refrain from doing so to keep the suspense an ever living part of this story. But if you all really want it uploaded before next week, I'll cut you all a deal. Leave a review telling me why you want the next two chapters up. And let's aim for at least 20 reviews. And to make things more interesting, the next chapter is the Agaeti Blodhren and the one after that is Arya and Eragon in the forest all by themselves...I'll let your imagination carry you away there. Anyways, that's the deal I'm cutting for you. Take it or leave it :) But if you take, I'm awaiting your favorable and hopefull information review. But anways keep reading!**

Sitting on a branch rather high up in a tree, Arya sighed as she watched Eridor practice aerial combat overhead with Thorn. It had been over a week since she last saw Eragon and Saphira. What they were doing she did not know, but she was worried for them. Below her, Murtagh was engrossed with detailing the plants and trees around them, a study that Oromis had assigned him to broaden his knowledge of the forest and to increase his awareness. Staring at him made her think of Eragon. A week ago when they were sitting about the campfire, Eragon had started to hallucinate. At least, that was what she thought. He had stood, covering his ears to block out noises that she couldn't hear and was mumbling to himself. When she went to help him, he had flinched away before collapsing. It wasn't in the norm. Letting her fingers run along the branch that she sat on, her gaze traveled back to Eridor. He had gotten a lot bigger in such a short time frame. Soon he will be on par with going to Thorn.

Thinking of him, Eridor, made her smile. Ever since he'd hatched for her, her loneliness had all but left her. It was comforting to think of him and he now shared a part of her. It was a relationship so intimate that it was hard to imagine that the last few decades she'd spent without him. _If you think you've waited a long time, _a voice snorted in her head, _I've waited a thousand years for you to become my rider._

_I'm glad you chose me, _she responded in kind. Arya watched as he did a spiral in the air effectively knocking Thorn back. _That was a powerful move._

She couldn't help but faintly smile as he accepted her compliment with grace. _You, as well as Saphira and Thorn, enjoy flattery do you not? It seems to be the only way to remedy anything with the three of you or to keep you three in the best of moods._

_Being a race of power and beauty, it is hard not to take flattery to the heart, _he replied as he dodged a claw from Thorn. _Besides, if it is not you who are complimenting me, it is another of your kind isn't it?_

She couldn't deny that. If she wasn't complimenting him and his prowess, another elf surely would. _A statement that is true. _Her emerald eyes followed his large and yet muscular build, the emerald of his scales sparkling in the sun. He truly was a beautiful creature. A moment later she could hear his chuckle in her mind. Anyone who glanced up at the sky would be blinded by a mirage of emerald and ruby as the two dragons fought each other.

_Are you not tired? _Arya asked after she watched Eridor snap his jaws at Thorn as a near scratch to his under belly.

_Not in the least, _he replied with a surge of energy to prove his statement. _To fly feels refreshing._

_That it does. _She had flown quite a few times on Thorn, Saphira, and Eridor. But she could never let go of the peace she felt when she was air borne wit the dragons. There was an odd sense of tranquility about it. As she sat there in the clearing, she raised a brow when Murtagh called up to her.

Glancing down at him, she waited for him to continue. "Would you like to test out the theory that the only difference between Thorn and Eridor is age?"

She glanced at Thorn and Eridor who were both suspended in air. _It seems like a good idea._

_It does. _She stood in one fluid motion and jumped. Within moments Eridor flew underneath her and she landed with ease onto the juncture between his neck and shoulder. She didn't strap a saddle on for it would restrict his movements while training with Thorn and anyways, she didn't mind flying without a saddle. Beside her, Murtagh was holding onto the spike before him to prevent himself from flying off of Thorn.

_Let us show them the strength of an elf and her dragon, _Eridor said. Arya nodded. Letting out a roar, the two dragons tore through the sky, though she was unsure of their final destination. Feeling the wind rip past her cheeks and her hair billow out behind her, she smiled into the sky. This was freedom. She turned to glance at Murtagh who raised his arm to her. Smiling, she did the same. The dragons made a sharp turn while racing each other. And from what she was seeing they seemed to be evenly matched.

And just slightly, she felt a tinge of happiness grow inside her. Ever since Eridor had hatched for her, loneliness wasn't a factor of the eternal life that she led. Now she was part of an order that she'd admired since she was a child. It was a great thing that she was given and she would never take that for granted. Never. _It seems like we are evenly matched._

_Something that you shouldn't feel ashamed of Eridor, you've only just hatched a few months ago,_ said Arya with her mind, letting him sense her pride for him.

He didn't reply but inside grunted his feeling of appreciation washing over her through their mental link. She rubbed his scales as he slowly dipped forward into a dive. Wrapping her hand about one of his spikes she retained her grip to avoid being torn from his back by the wind. He was hurtling to the ground within minutes and before he crashed into the earth, his wings unfurled, slowing them down until he gently landed on the ground. Moments later, Thorn alit next to them.

With grace, she slipped off Eridor and onto the ground, with Murtagh doing the same, albeit more clumsily. "I think we'll have to call it a draw." He said with a light smile as he patted Thorn's snout.

"It would seem that way," she made her way over to him. This past week, Oromis had her accompany Murtagh on various assignments, such as this one after their training. He seemed intent on Murtagh learning everything there was to know in the short amount of time that they had. "How goes your study?"

His smile had turned into a frown at the mention of it. And she felt a tinge of sympathy for him. No doubt he was frustrated at his lack of knowledge compared to his younger brother, Eragon. Arya had known Murtagh long enough to know that the mention of him being inferior to Eragon caused him humiliation. There was no denying, however, how much stronger Eragon was compared to his older brother. He was also able to defeat her with his blades, which irked her to no end. Eragon was someone, she thought, that was not to be contended with.

"The same as ever," he grunted, glancing at the plants around them. "It seems that I'm the one hard pressed to learn."

"Do no worry so much," said Arya. "You will reach the end of the tunnel eventually."

"But how long will it take?" asked Murtagh, his frustration finally reaching the surface of his emotions. "No matter how hard I try, I cannot achieve anything. Neither with my lack of knowledge nor with my disability." His expression became one of pain. "I'm a sorry rider."

Almost immediately, Thorn let out a deafening roar of defiance, his head snapping towards Murtagh at lightning speed. She couldn't hear what was transpiring between them. After a few minutes, he returned to himself, but his words struck a chord in her. To feel that way…her mind flashed back to a long figure standing on the shore of a beach.

"I do not think so," said Arya watching as her words seem to lift his mood slightly.

He remained silent before speaking again, his words soft. "Arya, have you seen Eragon lately?"

The question caught her off guard. The memory of her panic came back to her when he had collapsed. She stood there for a moment. She had wanted to see him, but she could never bring herself to do so. Whether it was her pride or her fear, she could not be sure. Arya did not fear Eragon himself, but rather her feelings for him. He was someone who, with the short amount of time he had spent with her, captured her trust. Whether or not those feelings had developed quickly due to Eridor's attraction to Saphira she couldn't tell. But she viewed him differently then those around her. He was someone who saw past the exterior and deep inside others. His aloof personality made her curious. Ever since he'd first saved her, she always wondered and constantly questioned: _why_. But he was never able to give her a straightforward answer. And through all the time she'd spent with him, she'd found herself growing a deep friendship with him. They were two of the same kind, dragon riders who were tortured and imprisoned by Galbatorix.

"I haven't." Arya answered finally.

"Do you think he is well?" Murtagh turned his gaze upwards. "I haven't seen him or Saphira for quite some time."

For some reason her answer, or lack thereof, made her frustrated. "I do not know."

He nodded and then stood there silently for a moment before turning to a different subject. "The day has grown late, Arya." It had. Already, evening was approaching and she had to return to her tree to continue working on her gift for the Agaeti Blodhren: a poem that she had constructed from scratch.

"It has."

"I will see you tomorrow then?"

Arya nodded, and with that, bid Thorn and Murtagh farewell before turning with Eridor at her tail and weaveing her way through the gaps of the trees. There was no doubt in her mind that she would see him the following morning, for they had training together. Letting her feet carry her through the forest, she wasn't paying attention to where she was going, but just went with her gut instinct.

It was something she liked to do. Just wandering aimlessly like the few times she had spent traveling about Tronjheim. It eased her mind considerably. After a while, she stopped and found herself at the foot of an ancient tree trunk. Glancing up, she was slightly shocked to find herself standing at the foot of Eragon's tree. She stood. _Well, are you going to enter?_

_I…_she hesitated. Then after a moment's decision nodded. Climbing the stairs that grew out of the tree, she arrived at the top and knocked on the latch. For a moment, there was no response and she thought he was not there before his voice traveled through the door, "Enter."

She did so. Walking into his adobe, she was surprised to find him bending over a large ancient text while eating an apple. From where she stood she could see his entire figure. He looked much better since he'd arrived at Ellesmera but she could see a hint of exhaustion in his expression. He spoke to her in the ancient language like they've decided to do, placing his two fingers on his lips in a sign of respect. She repeated the gesture and moved to where he stood. "What are you searching for?"

He glanced down at his book. "It was given to me by Master Oromis. There is something that I'm studying about for the Agaeti Blodhren."

Arya nodded. His room was still a mess. The scrolls and books that she'd seen before was still littering his floor. He saw the distaste on her face and smiled. "I apologize for the state of things. I haven't had time to clean it."

"It is not my place to criticize," said Arya. She turned towards Saphira, who laid on the floor eating desert next to Eridor, who seemed to have joined her while she was busy greeting Eragon. "It is good to see you again, Saphira."

Her large sapphire eyes turned to her and she blinked. A second later a mind touched hers and she allowed the dragon entrance. _You as well, Arya. _Her voice became softer. _Thank you for taking care of Eragon for me. He can be quite troublesome._

Eragon grunted from where he stood but said nothing. Arya nodded with a faint smile. "That he is." She turned back to Eragon. "How are you feeling?"

He stopped his search and lifted his head to stare at her. "Fine." As he spoke without hesitation in the ancient language she was forced to acknowledge that fact. But a little part of her didn't believe it. Arya nodded. "Would you like some tea?" Eragon asked.

"It would be appreciated."

He nodded and left to find some cups and boil tea. As she stood there, she glanced back down at his research. It was long and elaborate. Detail explanations of objects and spells. It was complex and what he was trying to conclude eluded her. A note to the side caught her eye.

_In a world we call reality,_

_What is fake and what shall remain,_

_Has nature seen to the inevitable,_

_Has God left his land to the unstoppable,_

_What truth lies in this cold reality,_

_As lies are spun and weaved brought about by words,_

_As death is caused and shed brought about by swords,_

_As tears fall from sorrow and grief brought about by pain,_

_What will happen to the reality that remains_

What did that mean? When Eragon came back, he handed her a wooden goblet which she accepted. She took a drink, letting the hot tea clear her mind before motioning to his poem. "What does that mean?" she asked, waiting for his explanation.

"It means what it says," Eragon said as he stared down at it. "That the world we live in is a harsh one."

It was a morbid way of thinking but it was true no less. "Not always," said Arya.

He nodded. "Not always." He marked the page of his book and closed it. "What brings you here, Arya?"

"I haven't heard from you for some time and I thought to come and visit," she said honestly, not feeling the need to go about the answer. "Why have you not been to our training with Master Oromis and Glaedr?"

He stared at her for a moment before making his way around his table to sit on the floor of his tree. She followed, sitting across from him. He was quiet for a long moment and for a second, she thought that he wouldn't answer her like he sometimes did. Then he spoke, his words soft, "I was busy researching something important to me."

Knowing better than to ask what it was, she nodded. "Will you come tomorrow?"

"Yes, of that you can be certain." Eragon took another sip of his tea. His brown eyes traveled from the teardrop hole to hold her gaze. "And how have you been, Arya?"

She glanced down at the tea in the wooden goblet and lightly stirred it, watching the ripples form in the water. "Well," but even that was hard to say. Ever since that week ago when Eragon fell, it'd brought to mind images that she would rather forget.

"It does not seem so," he quietly observed. "Would you like to speak of it?"

She didn't respond to him. He made a sound in the back of his throat and allowed her some respite from his question. As she sat there, she tried not to let the sight of her companions falling from their steeds affect her, or the image of Durza standing above her trying to break her. "Have you've talked to someone about your ordeal in Gil'ead?"

His question surprised her for she did not expect it. When she glanced up at him, she found him watching her intently. "Does it matter?" Arya asked softly.

He inclined his head. "It is always best to share one's burden with friends or family," said Eragon, "Forgive me if I speak out of line, but you seem withdrawn, Arya, and though I cannot claim to know you before your capture, you seem very indifferent to your surroundings."

"As do you," she replied. Then she stopped. "Forgive me—"

"There is nothing to forgive."

She stopped, her eyes returning to the ground. "It was not always so," she whispered quietly after a moments hesitation. "Once, I had someone to talk to, someone who understood who I was and where I came from…He was older than I, but we were kindred spirits both seeking the world outside our forest, eager to explore and strike out against Galbatorix. Neither of us could bear the thought of staying in Du Weldenvarden to pursue our interests when we knew the Dragon Killer, the bane of the Riders, was searching for a way to conquer our race. I had already assumed my position as an ambassador for my people decades before he came to the same conclusion as I…but the moment he did, he volunteered to accompany me wherever my duties might take me," she blinked, feeling her throat convulse and a sudden panic and grief clutch at her heart. "I wasn't going to let him, but the queen liked the idea, and he was very convincing…" Arya pursed her lips unable to continue feeling her eyes sting. She didn't want to shed tears, especially not before Eragon.

His voice was gentle as he spoke, "Was it Faolin?"

Her answer left her lips as a gasp, "Yes."

"Did you love him?"

Did she love Faolin? She'd thought she was too young to think of such a thing, that duty was her foremost priority but now that she was faced with that question she didn't know what to say. It was something that she'd constantly thought about. "Did I love Faolin? How would you describe love? For twenty years, we traveled together, the only immortals to walk among the short-lived races. We were companions…and friends."

That was true if anything. He was a close friend to her and would always have a place in her heart, as well as Glenwing. "And then in a single moment, Durza tore it away. They were the first elves to die in combat for nearly a century, Glenwing and Faolin. And when I saw them fall, I understood then that the true agony of war isn't being wounded yourself, it's having to watch those you care about being hurt. It was a lesson that I thought I had already learned during my time with the Varden when, one after another, the men and women I had come to respect died from swords, arrows, poison, accidents, and old age. The loss had never been so personal, however, and when it happened, I thought 'Now I must surely die as well.' For whatever danger we had encountered before, Faolin and I had always survived it together, and if he could not escape, then why should I?"

The sadness and grief that she had tried to restrain by tackling her duty began to well up in her with such ferocity that thick tears fell from her eyes. Her distress must have panicked Eragon for an expression of shock overwhelmed him and his hand instinctively reached out for her, stopping a few inches from her own hand. He lowered it. In the back of her mind, she felt Eridor's comforting presence not intruding but letting her know that he was there.

"Then Gil'ead," Arya went on, the worst of her memories floating back to her from the century that she's been alive. "Those days were the longest of my life. Faolin was gone, I did not know whether Thorn's egg was safe or if I had inadvertently returned him to Galbatorix, and Durza…Durza sated the bloodlust of the spirits that controlled him by doing the most horrible things he could imagine to me. Sometimes, if he went too far, he would heal me so he could begin anew the following morning. I never had more than a few hours' respite to collect my wits about me."

"He needed no more sleep than you or I, and he kept at me whenever I was conscious and his other duties permitted. While he worked on me, every second was an hour, every hour a day, and every day an eternity. He was careful not to drive me mad but he came close. He came very, very close. I began hearing songs of birds that did not exist. See a forest beneath my feet that was on the other side of Alagaesia, and trees grow until they reached the sky. It was one delusion after another. And then you came, Eragon." She regarded him with a wan smile. "You and Saphira. After hope had deserted me and I had resigned myself to my fate a Rider appeared to rescue me."

"Make that two Riders and Brom." Said Eragon.

Arya nodded continuing as if he didn't interrupt her. "It was such an improbable rescue, I occasionally think that I did go mad and that I've imagined everything since. I had escaped with my life and a Rider, and the last of Galbatorix's eggs that hatched for me. Is it not plausible that I've gone mad?" she dried her eyes with her palms. "You say I'm indifferent to my surroundings. I have ever been of a solitary disposition. But if you had known me before Gil'ead, if you had known me as I was, you would not have considered me so aloof. Then I could sing and dance and not feel threatened by a sense of impending doom."

She felt Eridor's snout gently nuzzle her hair and she was grateful for his support. Regaining her composure she turned to Eragon to find him staring at his hands as if considering what to say. For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then, he lifted his head and gazed at her. "Know this Arya, though I may speak out of bounds, I, along with Murtagh, Thorn, Saphira, and Eridor will always stand by your side. Whatever doom comes, then we will all have to weather it as best as we can and see it through to the very end."

_He speaks the truth, _Eridor grumbled in her head. _I will fly to the ends of the world for you._

_As Riders and dragons, there is nothing else that we wouldn't do for one another, _said Saphira, her voice soft and comforting.

At their words, a warmth began to blossom in her chest, running through her veins and seeping into her bones. They had said it in the ancient language and she knew then that they meant it with every fiber of their being. She favored Eragon a smile. He glanced away sipping his tea before returning a fainter smile in return.

Her world was changing. And she knew now that the sky wasn't her limit. It was her own fear. And she needed to conquer it and face life as it came to her. The thought of it made her smile, Eragon was truly influencing her with his human beliefs, even if he didn't mean to.

Letting her eyes travel to the opening in the tree, she watched Blagden fly past, shrieking, "Wyrda!"

**Lately, as you've all noticed. I've been very motivated to write this story and upload hence the two chapters that are done and completed that I will upload based on the reviews (Hehe...what a great idea.) But ever since I read the ending to Inheritance, my paramount disappoint (dued to the nonexistant romance between A&E) was so great it's ignited a flame inside of me. And so I've been tearing through these chapters with speed! Oh and the last part at the end was from Brisingr or the majority and that was due in part to the fact that I believe Paloni could not portray Arya's moment of weakness any better than that. So kudos to you CP despite the ending you laid on us! I'll see you all next chapter which, based on you readers will be up soon. Either tomorrow or next week!**


	35. Chapter 30

**So, I'm pretty surprised that you all reviewed so quick and as promised I have uploaded it for you all. And your reviews makes me a very happy writer! Well, with the exception of one but there will always be those type of people. Anyways, I hope you all love this chapter its a mixture of CP's own Agaeti Blodhren but with my own twists and turns! (So thank you for writing it so beautifully CP) and because I feel that three chapters are a lot in a week, I'll let you wait for the next one a little longer! I'm evil! :) Happy reading!**

As the days began to get ever closer to the Agaeti Blodhren, Eragon found himself experiencing the best and worst days of his time in Ellesmera. His mind troubled him constantly, despite Islanzadi's and Oromis's search for a cure. The bloodlust of the spirit sharing his body made it hard for him to concentrate on anything else, but he found it easier to keep it in check when he had company. Yet, in contrast, he and Saphira had never been so close. Disregarding her own safety, she kept her mind connected to his, living and feeling the experiences, her him and he her. Her presence made everything much more relaxing and comforting. And every now and then when Arya's duty permitted her and he wasn't feverously researching through scrolls and texts, the two of them along with Eridor and Saphira would walk through Ellesmera. Over the course of their wanderings, Arya introduced Eragon and Saphira to elves of distinction: great warriors, poets, and artists. She took them to concerts held under the thatched pines, something he found very soothing to his mind. And she showed them many hidden wonders of Ellesmera, some more mythical than the rest.

Ever since her distressed confession, he found himself trying to share her burdens as a fellow rider and a friend. He told her stories that he knew would interest her. How he'd come to hire his servants, that as a child he was talented in playing the flute for his mother, and how he would always find himself attached to the ocean and the beauty of the sky. He told her of his first flight with Saphira in which out of his own fear and excitement ended rather badly as he fell from the saddle and into a pile of hay in the country side. Eragon had tried to avoid subjects such as Galbatorix and Shruikan and instead told her of a loyal servant he had by the name of Tornac and how he had learned the skills of the blade from him. And he told her of the city of Uru'baen and how when he climbed one of the seven elfish towers to watch the sunset, it was as if the sky was on fire, something she was most interested in. But he rarely, if ever, spoke of himself during those times.

In turn, Eragon learned of Arya's own life. He heard of her childhood, her friends and family, the struggles she had with her mother, her sense of duty, and her experiences among the Varden, which she spoke about the most freely. She described raids and battles she participated in, treaties that she helped to negotiate, her dispute with the dwarves and their beliefs, which he thought was uncanny of her, and the momentous events that she witnessed during her tenure as ambassador. However, he didn't just listen. He would ask questions in return and for the most part, she answered them with an honesty that he came to appreciate greatly since his time in Ellesmera.

One night, as they were sitting under the canopy of an ancient oak tree, Arya was describing the time when she had first attended a wedding between a rather respected leader of the Varden and his betrothed. As she explained, he couldn't help but feel amused at the small distaste she had for the ceremonies. "Though elves don't see it necessary to dictate our bonds to laws or secular items, it was an odd enough experience to witness it before a crowd of people. Who we chose to take as a mate is solely our decision, no one else's. We shall live together for as long as our feelings persist, and if not, then it will be a parting of the ways."

"Ah, but then humans, being a short-lived race can only express their loyalty and devotion through that ceremony. Without magic and immortality, it is hard to live freely of other's influence," countered Eragon.

"But how would you justify infidelity when you've vowed to protect and nurture one another for as long as you both shall live?" Arya asked cornering him with her logic. And to this he grudgingly didn't have an answer. It was how it went between the two of them; though Eragon would best her in sparring she was superior to him in knowledge and logic.

Between her and Saphira, a measure of tranquility began to settle in Eragon's heart, but it was a balance that could be easily disrupted when he was influenced by the madness of the spirit residing in him. But with the coming of the celebration, he was glad for a distraction from his morbid thoughts.

The entire city bustled with activity as the elves prepared for the Agaeti Blodhren. Eragon had never seen them so excited before and he had to admit that spending time with Arya made him feel as if she was representative of her race. Oh how wrong he was. They decorated the forest with colored bunting and lanterns, especially around the Menoa tree, where the tree itself was adorned with a lantern upon the tip of each branch. Even the plants took a festive appearance that Eragon knew was due to the elves' singing through the night.

Each day hundreds of elves arrived in Ellesmera from their cities scattered throughout the woods, for none would willingly miss the centennial observance of their treaty with the dragons. Eragon also knew that many came to see for themselves the beauty of the three dragons. The trio did not disappoint and would often fly about the city, causing a rainbow of sapphire, emerald, and ruby to color the city. He would chuckle when he heard the excited gasps and compliments the elves rained on the three dragons. A week before the Agaeti Blodhren, Eragon had forgone walking with Arya because he was busy with his creation for the ceremony and she with hers. Saphira, too, would often fly off to work on hers, something that he didn't question but was very interested in seeing with his own eyes. What he wanted to give to the elves was something that they'd value beyond anything else, something that was the cause of their sadness and sorrow and he had the right tools for it all, his memories being the most monumental contribution. He labored day and night, not putting forth any magic but instead his feelings and desire for what was lost so his project could take life from his emotions and not magic itself. As he worked on his project and Murtagh and Arya worked on theirs, the time they met for training was slightly subdued due to their preoccupations.

He had refused to show Oromis for it would not create the reaction that he desired. Never had he felt a desire to accomplish something so greatly in his entire life. Eragon worked day and night from dawn to sunset but it gave him a feeling of wondrous freedom and peace, two things he hadn't felt in a long time.

On the eve of the Agaeti Blodhren—which was the last three days—Eragon, Saphira, Orik, Murtagh, and Thorn accompanied Arya and Eridor to the Menoa tree, where a host of elves was assembled, their black and silver hair flickering in the lamplight. Islanzadi stood upon a raised root at the base of the trunk, as tall, pale, and fair as a birch tree. Blagden as usual rested on the queen's left shoulder, while Maud, the werecat whom Eragon liked a great deal, lurked behind her. Glaedr was there, as well as Oromis, who was clothed in red and black. He also recognized other elves such as Lifaen and Nari and to his great distaste, Vanir.

"Wait here," said Arya. She slipped through the crowd and soon enough, returned with Rhunon, making good on her promise to bring the elf to the celebration. The smith blinked at them and each of them took turns in greeting her, to which she would nod and give a short reply. Then she spied Orik and addressed him in Dwarvish, to which he responded with enthusiasm. Arya resumed standing next to him and he was not surprised to see her dressed in the same manner as her mother and Oromis, black and red.

"It seems that you've managed to bring her out of her forge," commented Eragon as he watched Orik and the smith converse. "Did she take well to it?"

"Rhunon was her usual self," said Arya with a light smile, which he contributed to the celebration seeing as this was also her first time in participating in it. "It took no more than words and a few brusque complaints before she left."

He nodded, not doubting her answer. They stood there until the stroke of midnight, every once and a while Eragon would point an object of interest to her and she would explain, Islanzadi raised her bare left arm so that it pointed to the new moon and a soft white orb of light gathered itself above her palm from the light emitted from the lanterns that dotted the Menoa tree. Then Islanzadi walked along the root to the massive trunk and placed the orb in a hollow in the bark, where it remained, pulsing.

Murtagh turned to Arya. "Is it begun?"

"It is begun!" she laughed. "And it will end when the werelight expends itself."

Eragon watched as the elves divided itself into informal camps throughout the forest and clearing that encircled the Menoa tree. They produced tables laden high with dishes and then they began to sing in their clear flutelike voices. The music was part of a larger melody that wove an enchantment over the dreamy night causing Eragon's blood to boil and his mind to take wild abandon with a desire to dance and run freely through the dark forest. He restrained it with such firmness, that it was impossible to go mad, but Murtagh seemed to be having a much more difficult time. From then on out, he let himself partake in the celebrations, knowing what his limits were. Eventually, as they celebrated, time lost all meaning to him, for he did not know how much time had transpired as he danced among the elves and let himself enjoy their merriment.

He remembered dancing about Arya, who proved a beautiful dancer as she twirled and twisted with such grace it was hard to picture her in battle. Their hands would bring them together and their feet would push them apart. As he danced, he caught a glimpse of Murtagh spinning in circles while holding hands with an elf-maid.

He remembered the elves perching on the branches of the Menoa tree call out to the dragons below, asking riddles and questions, laughing when they were answered by any of the four dragons.

He remembered sitting against Saphira to watch the same elf-maid whom Murtagh danced with sway before a rapt audience while she sang.

He remembered the endless poems, some mournful, others joyful, and most contained both. He heard Arya's poem in full and thought that it fine indeed, and Islanzadi's, which was longer but of equal merit. All the elves gathered to listen to those two works…

He remembered the wonders the elves made for the celebration, many of which he would have deemed impossible beforehand, even with the assistance of magic. Puzzles and toys, art and weapons, and items whose function escaped him.

He remembered meeting elves who had altered their appearance in what they thought was beautiful, such as webbed fingers and gills, or a mane of wolf hair and fangs for teeth. Everything seemed to dance in and out of his mind as if he was there but his mind wasn't.

He remembered Arya pulling him aside to ask him a question but it was lost to the music and merriment of those all around him. But she was soon pulled away by the other elves and her mother to continue the celebration leaving Eragon to where he stood with Saphira.

He remembered Murtagh having an attack from his back, and trying to help his half brother ease the pain with his magic as the elves continued to dance and sing in their revels. To keep them away, Saphira and Thorn stood guard over him as he helped Murtagh.

On the third day of the Agaeti Blodhren, or so Eragon later learned, he brought out his creation for the elves to witness. It was a vast, bulky object that took up multiple tables that they elves had cleared for him. He reached out to grip the black cloth that obscured it from view feeling all of their interested views on him, especially those of Oromis, Arya, Islanzadi, Murtagh, and the dragons. He faced them and said, "I am no smith nor am I skilled in weaving or carving. And Nor can I rival your accomplishments with spells. Thus remained what I could do and my desire to see it rise again even though it is but a small recreation of it." With a flourish of his hand, he removed the cloth revealing to the audience the recreation of the island of Vroengard, where the Order of the Riders resided.

It was not the poisoned island that it is now, but the beautiful land in which vast buildings stood and mountains shadowed. Flying atop of it were dragons that he had carved and built, functioning with the magic of his emotions and desire. They released torrents of fire and bellows as they circled the island. Everything was precise and exact as he extracted the memories of Vroengard from the Eldunari that Galbatorix had enslaved when he came into contact to them. He heard the elves' gasps and cries at the replication of what were lost. Glaedr and Oromis were perhaps the most emotional next to Queen Islanzadi as they surveyed it.

_Yes, this is what we lost in the Fall,_ Glaedr said mournfully, _the destruction of our home._

The elf lord, Dathedr, said, "You've underestimated yourself, Shadeslayer. In the century that has passed since the Fall, we've come to forget the beauty of what once was and it is thanks to you that we can remember."

Islanzadi raised one pale hand. "This creation of yours shall be added to the great library in Tialdari Hall, Eragon-finiarel, so that all who wish can appreciate it." As she said so, she approached the island and a dragon, whom she recognized flew towards her and bowed his head in respect and soon enough the others did as well, seeing the authority of Islanzadi. Eragon couldn't tell but he'd thought he saw tears in the queen's eyes as she gazed down at the Vroengard.

Afterwards, it was time for Saphira to present her work to the elves. And seeing as it was also his first time seeing it, he was surprised to find her flying back with a molten rock thrice the size of a regular man. She landed on her hind legs and placed it in the center for all to see. Then with a bellow, she bathed it in flames. When she closed her jaws the rock was aflame seeming to move under the hypnotic light. This had the elves laughing and dancing shouting words of praise. And one by one they all began to reveal their works, Murtagh read his poem, Thorn brought forth a carving of a dragon that he carved with the use of his talons, and Eridor revealed his work, a map of Alagaesia that he also carved but on it, he'd rubbed the color of his scales into the trees and forest giving it a beautiful verdant color, something Rhunon praised. Then Glaedr and Oromis presented their works, the two objects that the elves anticipated.

Arya took Eragon's hand then and drew him through the forest toward the Menoa tree, where she said, "Look how the werelight dims. We have but a few hours left to us before dawn arrives and we must return to the world of cold reason."

Around the tree, the host of elves gathered, their faces bright with eager anticipation. With great dignity Islanzadi stood on a gnarled shelf overlooking the slender, waiting elves. She spoke of the war with the dragons and the shame they had faced since the fall of the riders before pointing out the miracle of four riders now present for the ceremony and the hope that they now had to face Galbatorix.

At the Queen's signal, the elves cleared a wide expanse at the base of the Menoa tree. Around the perimeter they staked a ring of lanterns mounted upon carved poles, while musicians with flute, harps, and drums assembled along the ridge of one long root. Guided by Arya to the edge of the circle, Eragon found himself sitting between her and Murtagh, while Saphira and Eridor crouched on one side of them and Thorn and Glaedr the other. When all elves were settled, two elf-maids walked to the center of the space in the host and stood with their backs to each other. They were exceedingly beautiful, Eragon thought, and identical in every aspect with the exception of their hair: one had ebony tresses while the other had hair the color of silver.

"The Caretakers, Iduna and Neya," whispered Arya.

Moving in unison, the two elves raised their hands to the brooches at their throats, unclasped them, and allowed their white robed to fall away. Though they wore no garments, the women were clad in an iridescent tattoo of a dragon. The tattoo began with the dragon's tail wrapped around the left ankle of Iduna, continued up her leg and thigh, over her torso, and then across Neya's back, ending with the dragon's head on Neya's chest. Every scale on the dragon was inked in a different color giving it the look of a rainbow.

The elf-maids twined their hands and arms together so that the dragon appeared to be connected, rippling from one body to the next without interruption. Then they each lifted a bare foot and brought it down on the packed ground with a soft _thump._

It wasn't until the third _thump_ did the musicians struck their drums in rhythm to the soft stomps. A _thump_ later, the harpists plucked the strings of their gilt instruments, and a moment after that, those elves with flutes joined the throbbing melody. Then the twin's voices became one with the music as they danced gathering speed as they went to make the dragon on their skin move. And soon enough the elves accompanied the incantation, singing with one tongue and one mind and one intent. Eragon did not know the words and settled to listening to Arya sing it beside him. From either side, he heard the dragons hum along with the song.

Faster and faster, Iduna and Neya spun until their feet were a dusty blur and their hair fanned about them and they glistened with a film of sweat. As they accelerated to an inhuman speed, the tempo of the music climbed with them. Then a flare of light ran the length of the dragon tattoo, from head to tail, and the dragon stirred. Eragon blinked. Had he truly seen that?

A burst of flame erupted from the dragon's maw and he lunged forward and pulled himself free of the elves' skin, climbing into the air, where he hovered flapping his wings. The tip of his tail remained connected to the twins below, like a glowing umbilical cord. The giant beast let loose a roar that held the events of the past century.

As the dragon's head befall him and Murtagh, he knew then that it was no apparition but a conscious being bound and sustained by magic. The dragons' humming grew louder until it blocked all other sound from Eragon's ear. The dragon's insubstantial wing touched the seated elves as it looped down over them coming to a stop before Eragon and Murtagh. He felt an instinct to reach it come over him but he refrained from doing so, while beside him Murtagh lifted his right hand, palming reaching toward the creature.

In his mind echoed a voice of fire: _Our gift so you may do what you must._

The dragon bent his neck and touched the heart of Murtagh's gedwey ignasia. A spark jumped between them, and he watched as his half brother went rigid in his seat before he fell forward. Alarmed, Eragon stood to help him just as the dragon touched his right eye with its snout. A searing pain erupted from the contact, blinding him as he reached for it with his right hand. As soon as his own gedwey ignasia came in contact with it, his body burned with an unrestrained fire. His vision flashed red and black and his right eye burned. Feeling a drowsiness overcome him, he stumbled before falling to the ground, going into deep within himself to keep the pain at bay.

Lastly, he again heard the voice of fire say, _Our gift to you._

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I shall upload the next one in a week so have fun waiting in the suspense that I've created!**


	36. Chapter 31

**First and foremost I'm so sorry for the prolong delay. I've been having a hard time settling down my life and I just lost the motivation to write my story. But I always remembered the promise about finishing this story and when Inheritance came out (which I am currently reading) I just got the motivation to do it again. And so I cleared everything off my agenda and sat and typed away for ages. And I would also like to thank all of you who have been reviewing and keeping up my motivations as well as my Beta not giving up on me. Anyway, I know you're all excited so have fun reading and don't forget to review. :)**

If Arya's prediction was to be trusted, the rain was not going to let up anytime soon. But on the third day, it had gotten much better; at least that was what she told him. However, he had not expected to be trekking through the forest underneath a torrent of falling droplets of water. Still, it was better than doing nothing. Easily stepping over roots, he frowned when his boots landed in a rather thick puddle of mud. He _thought_ it was mud anyways.

"It is mud," stated Arya, who was walking ahead of him. She turned her head back to smirk at him: "There is no need to make such a face, Eragon."

"What I do not understand is how you can walk all over the ground and only have mud on the _bottom _of your boots." He muttered, slightly put out at the sight of his black leather boots drenched in mud. Continuing onward, he glanced overhead, the dragons haven't yet left the cave yet, seeing the rather detrimental weather conditions.

The objective was that he and Arya reach Ellesmera in due time and once the weather betters, the dragons would follow. But that was only if everything went according to plan. Lately, however, luck wasn't in his favor. Whatever that was going to happen when he returned to Ellesmera, he would have to try his best to face it. Especially coming face to face with Queen Islanzadi again.

There was no way around it; he had to tell her the truth.

Her and Oromis.

Sighing, Eragon craned his head to glance up through the small gaps the leaves, which promptly resulted in a raindrop falling on his cheek. But how should he even begin to explain? Would they believe him or would they turn their backs?

"You seem to be deep in thought." Arya said. It was not a question, but rather a statement of fact. She paused in her consistent stride to turn and look at him, before turning away and resuming their journey.

"I was just thinking about some things." Eragon replied, vaguely. He did not want to start explaining himself just yet. Everything seemed confusing to him in his current state.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Very," said Eragon with a nod, knowing that she probably wasn't going to see it. "My illness has long since passed."

"That is good to know."

He glanced ahead of them. "How far along are we?"

Stopping to judge the distance, Arya turned to face him. "If my estimation is correct, by night we shall be within the outskirts of Ellesmera. But I am sure you don't plan on returning to the city first."

"No, I'm not," agreed Eragon, "how much further is Oromis's hut?"

"For that even I am not sure," admitted Arya with a slight frown, "It might take us days without the help of the dragons."

"Days, huh?" he frowned. That wasn't good enough. Especially not now when his mind was in the condition it is. He fell into pace with Arya, thinking to himself as they walked in a comfortable silence. It had been a few months since he'd left the Empire, and the distance he was from Galbatorix was also part of the problem.

As he walked, his vision flickered before him, for a moment causing him to stagger slightly. Regaining his sight, he steadied himself. Not again. He couldn't afford to lose control anymore around Arya or he could fatally wound her.

"Are you feeling unwell?" asked Arya as she came to stand beside him.

He shook his head. "No, just lost my balance is all." He lied. Saphira wasn't around to keep him from falling apart, which made the situation all the direr. He needed a distraction of some sort; something to keep his mind from unraveling at the ends like a ball of yarn. As they continued walking he felt himself slowly smile as something came to mind. It would be embarrassing to ask but he was going to take the chance anyway.

"Arya," she turned to him and gave him a curious stare. "Would you like to indulge me with a game of words?"

She nodded, her expression growing more curious. "The rules are simple," Eragon explained, "I'll start off in a category and say a word pertaining to it, and you have to find a word that also relates to the same category as well but it has to start with the last letter of my word. For example," he cast for a subject, "the category is birds, vulture."

She responded in kin, her eyes gleaming. "Eagle."

Eragon nodded, "That's all there is to it. Now let us start." Feeling a bit of competiveness rise up in him, he cast around for a category. "Hue: azure."

"Emerald." Her lips were curved in a faint half smile.

And that was how their simple game went. It distracted him that much was certain. For at times Arya would shoot off a word with such a ridiculous ending that it would take him a while to figure out what to say in response. And he had no doubt in his mind that she enjoyed seeing him struggle on the spot for more than fifteen minutes. By the time they were done, it was already well into the day. Night was almost falling.

"Let's stop here." Eragon said as he glanced up at the sky.

Arya nodded her mood lighter from besting him in the simple game that they played. Or it seemed that way to him, but he couldn't tell for sure. "This area seems like a good place as any to rest."

Without further ado, he settled onto the ground as Arya went to collect some firewood to make a small but warming fire. He raised a brow. "Why don't you use magic?" asked Eragon.

"I've grown used to doing it like this," she replied as she intricately stacked the wood atop each other. "Many humans within the Varden are afraid of magic. And after seventy years of living amongst them makes me grow to forget the ease in which to accomplish something by using magic."

He nodded. In a way, that did make sense. He watched as she lit the fire with the soft murmur of a word before the wood sparked. Within seconds, they had a nice crackling fire to gather warmth from.

As he sat there contemplating what Arya had just said, he began to grow curious at her past experiences. "How did you feel?"

She raised a brow at his question. He backtracked. "About living amongst humans?"

"How do _you _feel about living amongst elves?"

Eragon shrugged it was an honest question. How did he feel about living with the elves? A race so ancient and mythical it seemed more legend than reality. He could remember when he was a child he had read about their existence before he actually met them. It had really intrigued him as to how it was there was not even a glimpse of them. And now to be living with them seemed almost…

"You might not believe it," Eragon said softly, "but as a child I've always dreamed of Du Weldenvarden." He stared at the bright crackles of the fire. "In stories and books, I've read about it, a lush green forest that was a haven to the elves." A haven from Galbatorix.

"And what do you think of it now?" asked Arya from where she sat opposite of him. He didn't say, for he didn't know anymore. "It may surprise you how different we were before the fall of the riders. Now…even I find it somewhat odd to be around them again."

"Seven decades is a long time, even by your standards." Said Eragon, "You never answered my question though."

She remained silent for a while, giving him the impression that she might not ever answer his question. Then after a moment, she began to talk, her voice soft. "The first day I stood in the presence of so many humans, I thought I was standing amongst the midst of baboons."

He chuckled lightly, not expecting that as an answer from her, but could somewhat understand where she was coming from with that. "It was like an uncivilized nation compared to my people. The men smelled of sweat and gore and the women abided by a ridiculous rule of domesticity. The dependence one had on the other was nothing I've seen before. Growing up in Ellesmera, I've learned of various ideals and cultures but none as off-balancing as you humans."

Eragon couldn't help from smiling at her way of thinking. It seemed that once she got started on the topic, she couldn't let it go that easily. "But I've also come to learn many things that are never present here." Her gaze softened. "A strong bond of friendship between comrades, the love siblings had for one another always doting with affection, the open display of love amongst the young, a mother's love for her children…"

"Due in part of our short life span," said Eragon. "We die and conceive much easier than most of the other races here in Alagaesia."

"So it would seem." Arya agreed as she traced runes in the small patch of dirt beside her. "But I've always felt out of place there. The difference between our races was so great that it was hard to understand at first."

The fire crackled loudly as Eragon tossed a few blades of grass into it. Staring at the blades that remained in his fingers an idea occurred to him. He picked some blades of grass around him and began to weave them together as Arya continued speaking.

"It all seemed to come naturally to you," she said as if finally able to get a great burden off of her chest. "You didn't have to work at being who you were. There was no strict rule on mannerism in the presence of others. No need to give round about answers. There was a kindness that even strangers could feel."

"They in turn became used to my presence and the presence of my companions. We were always treated with respect and admiration when in truth we should be admiring them. Who else was fighting the brunt of this war for so long? Who else was it that stole the eggs from Uru'baen? Certainly not us."

"A quality that is somewhat of a flaw in us," Eragon said as he weaved the blades of grass between his fingers. "A capacity for a reckless amount of courage."

"Even so," Arya said her voice strong with conviction, "Though we may be talented in magic and skilled in swordsmanship-"

"And knowledgeable about the world." Eragon added.

She nodded, not fazed when he'd interrupted her as if deep in thought. "It is humans who can transcend God."

He stopped, momentarily caught off guard about what she'd said. What was Arya talking about? Her emerald green eyes rose to his bright ones. "Elves, dwarves, and sometimes even dragons, we don't see the need to prove anything, to do anything if it is out of our power. The resistance against Galbatorix was only strongest on the front of the humans. All we did is provide the supplies necessary and hide when we are stronger and more long-lived than humans were. It should've been we who robbed Galbatorix of his egg, who should've struck down the last of the Forsworn. But we did not. And we left these tasks to humans to accomplish, and they did so without the need of either our help or our magic."

"Why is that?" she spoke now more to herself than to him. "It was because of their emotions. Because of their short lives that propelled them to such achievements. Humans can make the impossible possible, look at Galbatorix for example. It's not a matter of rules or popular opinion that matters to them but what they believe is to be true in their hearts. And eventually they will become the victor in a struggle such as this."

"You've put much thought into this," observed Eragon as he continued his weaving. "I would've never thought of it that way before you spoke of it to me."

"I've had more time to dwell on this than you have," said Arya as she returned to stare at the flames. "I've seen things that you've never before seen, heard things that most will never hear. It has given me new perspectives on the outlook of life."

"I've always believed that one day I would be free of Uru'baen with Saphira and my mother," said Eragon as stared as his hands weaving the blades of grass. "I've always thought that it was a pointless dream. A passing though that would be carried away with the wind if I dwelled too much on it…but has it not come to pass? And so I too believe as you've said that humans can transcend not only God but their own sufferings and keep holding on to hope."

"Look at where it has gotten us," Eragon pointed out. "Three riders against Galbatorix in such a short span of time. Through all of the grief and sorrow that this war will bring to us by the conclusion of it, we'll greet a new dawn. With the hope for a better future."

She nodded. Finished with his object of fascination, he whispered a word in the ancient language and watched as it flew over to Arya. It was a small dragon made from grass that took flight in the air. A sorry comparison to Saphira and Eridor but he felt accomplished of himself more so than he did during anything else.

He watched as she reached up a hand to let it land on her upturned palm. It gave a roar that seemed like a squeak compared to what Saphira could do. He watched as it traveled the length of Arya's hand and to both of their amusement, curled up on her hand and refused to move anywhere else.

"That's odd," Eragon said as Arya placed it on the ground beside her despite its small yelp of protest.

"Usually when you animate an object, it takes on the mirror personality as the magician who'd cast the spell," explained Arya. He frowned not knowing whether or not to take that as an insult or compliment. "It could use some improvement."

"Thanks," said Eragon dryly. She nodded.

After her rather deep confession, he saw her in a new light. She wasn't just the princess of the elves or a fellow rider but to him he saw her for who she truly was and what she truly believed and for that reason, he admired her and what was more, he felt a strong desire to always stand by her. No matter what. He had never felt that way before towards others besides his mother, Saphira, and his servants he had to admit.

"Eragon," he turned towards Arya's voice. "Have you ever given any thought to Murtagh as a rider?"

He frowned, not expecting that sort of question from Arya. But to be honest, he didn't think that much of Murtagh since he'd arrived at the Varden. He hated his brother's simpleton attitude and foolish questions, but that was to be expected. Taking his silence as a refusal to answer her question, Arya grew stiff. "Forgive me if I overstepped any boundaries, Eragon."

He shook his head, "That's not it." He searched for words to describe it to her. "I don't know what I think of Murtagh. I've hated him for as long as I could remember. So it's odd to think of him as such." He thought more on it. "I believe that if we were to switch places, he would be no different than I would have been. But as a rider, he has come a long way."

He thought of the scar that Durza had left on Murtagh's back and felt remorse. "And I wish I could've done something about his wound." He breathed out. "If only I killed Durza before the battle."

"He isn't as weak as you think him to be," said Arya with a quick glance at the sleeping grass dragon. "You may not see it as clearly but he is trying his best to come on par with the both of us."

"No doubt that he's feeling insecure about his own abilities." Said Eragon with a soft sigh. "He'll see it eventually…he'll understand soon…"

Would Eragon be around long enough to see his brother finally reach the end of his long and arduous training to see the fruit of his labor? Maybe not. The way his mind was going, he might go crazy with madness before he would be able to see it happen and done with. But even though he didn't want to admit it to anyone, he hoped that Murtagh would be able to overcome the obstacles in his way and emerge newly found.

"Arya, can I ask you a favor?"

She nodded, her emerald eyes questioning. "I know I'm not in any place to request it of you after what I did, but…" he fought for words. "Help Murtagh for me, I don't want to see him become anything like I am." Unfit to help his friends, his family.

Arya stared at him for a moment and he thought that she was going to deny him but she slowly nodded. "I'll try my best…but it would be more effective if there was someone else watching as well."

He nodded, grateful. "I'll be doing my best as well." He hated to admit it, but he was worried for Murtagh. If he didn't make it through, he wanted Murtagh to be able to. Unconsciously, unaware that Arya was watching he brought his hand up to his right eye. Was it going to last before he left Ellesmera? Or would it fade?

Nevertheless, he had to try his hardest. He owed the people he cared about that much. He wasn't going to give up and die on the spot. Never. Not like how he thought before. He was going to survive. No matter what. Lowering his hand, he bowed his head towards Arya in a show of gratitude. "Eka elrun ono," said Eragon. _I thank you._

Her gaze softened. "It is but little consequence, Eragon."

"Still, I-" he stopped short. He had never had the need to rely on another before and this was so new to him, he didn't know where to begin.

"It is getting late," Arya said to save him from discomfort. "We should sleep; there is a long way to travel without the dragons to help us until the weather dies down."

"Yes," Eragon nodded grateful. He laid down on the soft ground, watching out of the corner of his eyes as Arya extinguished the flames before she too went to rest in her dream like state. And for some unknown reason, his heart clenched with longing. Eragon shook his head and turned over to sleep, letting his mind and body relax. He still had a long way to go.

**So what did you think of the chapter? I thought it was a pretty good heart to heart conversation but the bigger plot is just getting revealed. And I'm going to enjoy typing it for you all to read. Anyway I have good news, because I've worked out my temporary job that I really love as an assistant in mechanical engineering and college life everything has been going smoothly for the past month. Which means I will be likely to continue my regular updates which WILL NOT span five months but about two weeks.**


	37. Chapter 32

**Well, 700 reviews, my goodness am I flattered :) So I thought I might as well upload this chapter since the other one is almost done anyways. I'm SOOOO EXCITED! I can't wait to upload the next one but I'm debating on whether or not to make you all wait a few extra days before giving in. Lol, but I like to spoil my readers. And also to those who are inspired by my fanfiction, I'm extremely honored that you would ask for my advice. Anyway, you can all enjoy this chapter :)**

As dawn came, Eragon and Arya had decided that it was best to leave midday to give the dragons some time to themselves. He'd returned to his tree while Arya hers and went to pack his belongings. Texts and scrolls were roughly shoved away into the saddle as well as his other possessions. Packing didn't take more than five minutes. He would have to wait for Saphira to return before he could do anything else. Maybe he would go and assist Arya for he heard that elves didn't have a sense for time seeing as they were immortal beings.

Ten minutes later as he descended the tree cleanly shaven and changed into a light white tunic with an intricate lace pattern on the front that he didn't bother to lace, dark breeches, and his norm black leather boots. Arya's tree, Eragon thought, shouldn't be far from his seeing that the Riders of the past days would feel comforted residing near one another. His assumption wasn't far off either. Swiftly ascending the steps to her tree, he lightly knocked on the opening to her chamber waiting for her answer. It was short in coming as her voice floated towards him, "Enter."

Stepping over the threshold, he found her staring intently at the saddle and bags that lay before her, her brows furrowed. This was the first time he'd been in her tree and it was a much better sight than the mess he'd made. Neat and orderly was how he would describe her chamber. Books lay closed and stack neatly atop one another while scrolls were bound shut. Arya, to his surprise had already forgone her red and black outfit that she wore during the Agaeti Blodhren and was dressed in the usual dark leather that he was accustomed to seeing her in. She glanced up from her objects of interests to regard him quickly. "Eragon."

He inclined his head. "Arya." Moving towards her, he stopped beside her glancing down at Eridor's saddle and bags. "Is there something amiss?"

She shook her head, "I'm contemplating."

"Contemplating?"

Arya nodded and quick jerk of her head and refused to say anything else as she continued to stare at the bags and saddle. Not minding, he turned and began to explore her tree trying to see anything that might be on interest. A fairth caught his eye. He'd seen it before and didn't feel the need to give it much thought. But after what he'd learned from Arya, he'd decided to take another close look at it. The elf was a young or at least in appearance. So this was Faolin. He didn't seem proud, not in the least. His gaze, Eragon thought portrayed a kind look.

This was the elf that Durza had slain. Glancing back towards Arya's back he frowned. Would things have been different if he was still alive? He couldn't help but wonder. His eyes returned to the fairth feeling a small stir of uneasiness. Or was it jealousy? His frown deepened. That was a ridiculous idea…was it? He closed his eyes taking in a deep breath. _What is happening to me?_

After a few moments he opened them again. It must be Saphira's own feelings that were influencing his Eragon concluded. Letting his eyes wander down the wall he found a glass sphere by her bed with a preserved blossom of the black morning glory. Faolin must have made this for her Eragon thought yet again feeling another pang of distaste. Shaking off the feeling he turned something else catching his eye. Another sphere sat on her bed, newly formed and embedded in it was the white rose he'd given her but a few moments ago. Feeling a small smile grace his lips, he turned to find Arya reorganizing her scrolls. He raised a brow as he watched her. It was no doubt going to take her a few moments before she was done. Not minding in the least, he went to sit on her bed causing the glass sphere to roll towards him as he caused a dip in the mattress.

Easily catching it in his hands, he held it up to admire the smoothness of the glass. A minute passed and he turned back to Arya. "Is there an order in particular that you're trying to achieve?"

"Preparations always take time," she replied. She frowned and corrected herself, "Good preparations always take time." Her emerald eyes flickered to his and back. "Are you done with your packing?"

"More or less," Eragon replied. "Though I can say for certain that I wasn't as meticulous as you are, Arya." He felt amusement well within him at the slight irritation at his statement. She was no doubt irritated at the fact that he didn't put much effort into his packing. But as her personality, she didn't question him. "Would you like some assistance?"

She shook her head, her hair framing her face as she did so. "It is but packing."

He nodded not pushing his offer and sat there waiting for her to finish which would be long in coming. But he didn't mind, he enjoyed her company. He would spend his time conversing with her and commenting on how quiet the city seems to have become after the celebrations. In which she would agree and express her own sadness at their return to reality. Other times, silence would engulf them and he would find himself staring either at the sky outside of the teardrop hole or at Arya as she contemplated and packed and repacked.

As he stared at the sky, a question came to mind that made him slightly curious. His gaze flickered to Arya. "Arya?"

"Yes?" she drew out the word, her voice rising a falling with a faint lilt.

"What do you want to do once this is all over?" _If we survive that is,_ Eragon thought but he didn't voice it.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she considered his question and she folded her arms across her chest, deep in thought. Eventually she spoke, "I have spent more time among humans and dwarves than I have among the alfakyn," she said using the elves' name in the ancient language. "I have grown used to it, and I would not want to return to live in Ellesmera. Too little happens here; centuries can go slip by without notice while you sit and stare at the stars. No, I do not wish to resign my life to such lethargy. And as a dragon rider, I also have that duty to uphold. I'll help form the new order with you and Murtagh as representative of my race. Though I may not be able to continue being my mother's ambassador, I can help right the balance of the world, a reason why I left Du Weldenvarden. There will still be much that needs doing if we manage to topple Galbatorix, much that needs putting right and I would be a part of it."

He nodded, expecting that sort of reply from her. She didn't seem the one to shirk her duties, even when things are done and over. As he sat there thinking Arya gestured to him. "What do _you_ want to do?"

He let his hand glide over the glass orb in his hands as he considered the question. "Find a quiet place to live with Saphira. A place of tranquility and peace, maybe somewhere up North or at least that's what I would want if it weren't for my position," said Eragon he glanced up at the ceiling. "I want to help you right the balance of the world as you so say. And I want to see to it that the time of the Riders do come again but it'll be years before that can happen. As well as the fact that there will no doubt be massive uprisings if we do succeed in toppling Galbatorix. I'll assist in keeping Alagaesia in order but I'm afraid to say that I can only put half of my heart into this decision."

"Why is that?"

He felt somewhat depressed at the thought but answered her question, his tone light. "I don't think many would like to see me again as the traitor to their king and to their kind."

"We can only see," said Arya as she turned away from him. He nodded and glanced back out at the teardrop whole. To his surprise he saw Saphira and Eridor flying towards the tree. Within moments, Eridor came into a landing in the chamber, folding his wings and stretching his neck. Eragon raised a brow when Saphira circled away, heading for his tree.

"Good morning, Eridor," Eragon greeted. The emerald dragon turned to him, his eyes bright.

_That it is, Eragon. _His deep voice rumbled in his mind. Standing, Eragon gently placed the glass sphere back on Arya's bed and turned to leave. It was time to get ready and depart from Ellesmera. As he made for the door, Arya called out to him.

"We will meet you at Oromis's hut, Eragon."

He nodded. "Till then."

Descending her tree, he hurriedly made his way back to his own. Saphira was waiting patiently for him when he entered the chamber, standing by the saddle and bags that he had packed. But she was different; as she stood there he felt happiness radiate from her with such a force it made him happy as well. _I'm happy for you, Saphira._

_Thank you, little one. _Her snout gently brushed his hair. _You don't know how much it means to mean for you to say so._

He nodded gently stoking her scales. _It's time to depart from here, Saphira._

_I know, _her large head turned towards him, the sapphire iris of her eyes boring into him. _I'm ready to leave._

Strapping the saddle onto Saphira, he slung his bags over her back and buckled them down. Once everything was done and ready, he easily climbed into the saddle and the two of them flew to the Crags of Tel'naeir.

Oromis was sitting upon Glaedr's right forearm when they landed in the clearing and standing before him was Murtagh and Arya, the latter surprising him slightly. He would've thought that it would take her a few more moments to get ready. Behind them was Thorn and Eridor. Descending from Saphira's back, Eragon bowed, "Master Glaedr. Master Oromis."

From the corner of his eyes, he finally saw Murtagh after the dragons' gift during the Agaeti Blodhren. He looked much healthier, he stood straighter and his face lacked the usual pained expression that it normally bore. But his appearance wasn't what Eragon expected he didn't look like an elf. His features may have sharpened slightly, giving him a handsome look but for the majority everything remained the same. His round ears, his thick brows, and his strong jaw. And for a moment Eragon felt slightly envious of Murtagh.

_The four of you are ready to return to the Varden are you not? _Glaedr said.

Eragon nodded, speaking for the four of them, "We have."

Though Oromis's face showed an expression of sadness he nodded. "It is only so, with Alagaesia in such disarray, they need the Riders to return to the frontlines to help and assist. Arya, I do not doubt your education. You've had a century to study and learn but remember that even that long span of time is but a short moment in lives long such as ours. You leaving will not be detrimental to you training."

Arya bowed her head giving a show of full respect to the elf. Oromis then turned to him, his expression one of seriousness as he observed Eragon. "And you Eragon must be careful. What was given to you during the ceremony will not lastly infinitely. No, if I were to predict, it will wear away the more you over exhaust yourself. Remember to guard your heart once you leave Du Weldenvarden. But before you go, I ask but one thing, that you and Saphira vow that—once events permit—you will return here."

"I shall."

Appearing satisfied, Oromis reached behind himself and produced an embroidered red pouch that he tugged open. "In anticipation of your departure, I gathered together two gifts for you, Eragon." From the pouch, he withdrew a silver bottle. "First, some faelnirv I augmented with my own enchantments. This potion can sustain you when all else fails, and you may find its properties useful in other circumstances as well. Drink it sparingly, for I only had time to prepare a few mouthfuls."

He handed the bottle to Eragon, then removed a long black and blue sword belt from the pouch. The belt felt unusually thick and heavy in his hands. It was made of cloth thread woven together in an interlocking pattern that depicted the coiling Liani Vine. At Oromis's instruction, Eragon pulled at a tassel at the end of the belt watching as a strip in its center slid back to expose twelve diamonds.

He was moved beyond words. To think that Oromis would give someone the likes of him such a gift…

"Guard it well so that none are tempted to steal it. This is the belt of Beloth the Wise and is one of the greatest treasures of the Riders. These are the most perfect gems that Riders could find. Some we traded for with the dwarves. Others we won in battle or mined ourselves. I'm sure that you will find it a great asset to store energy in the stone in case you deplete your own."

"Thank you, Master," he meant it sincerely as he bowed his head to the elf. Over the past months that he'd spent with Oromis, he had garnered a great deal of respect for him.

Oromis turned to Arya as he grasped a long cloth covered item from the ground beside him, presenting it to her. "I have only one gift for you, Arya but it is not entirely mine. Rhunon had helped me accomplish it as well as the mate, Lord Fiolr, of the late Rider Arva who bestowed it upon you." Eragon watched as Arya gripped it and revealed the object underneath. It was a rider's blade to his surprise. The hilt was fashioned for Arya's hand he could tell for it was light and graceful and the blade was sharp and slim the emerald color of the sheath glinting in the sunlight matching Eridor's scales. "Your blade may be an ancient blade but a Rider shall have a Rider's sword. May Tamerlein bring you much glory and victory in battle."

Eragon watched as she grasped the blade with such tenderness it seemed ironic for the object. "Thank you, Master Oromis." Removing her sword, she slid the blade into place on her right hip. It fitted her greatly, Eragon thought.

Then Oromis surprised both Arya and Eragon by initiating the elves' traditional greeting and thereby indicating his respect for the both of them. "May good fortune rule over you."

"May the stars watch over you." They replied in kind.

"And may peace live in your heart," finished the silver haired elf. He repeated the exchange with Saphira and Eridor. "Now go and fly as fast as the north wind, knowing that you—the new Dragon Riders of our era—carry the blessing of Oromis, the last scion of House Thradurin, he who is both the Mourning Sage and the Cripple Who Is Whole."

_And mind as well_, added Glaedr. Extending his neck, he though the tip of his nose to Saphira, then Eridor, his gold eyes glittering like swirling pools of embers. _Remember to keep your hearts safe, Saphira, Eridor, and especially you Eragon._

Then Murtagh stepped forward, and for the first time Eragon could never remember seeing him so healthy and strong. He nodded to Arya with a faint smile no doubt at ease with her and their friendship. "I hope you'll have a safe journey back to the Varden. I would like to join you but I can't leave my training as of yet."

"I've heard about your back and I'm glad about the illness being gone from you, Murtagh. Now you shall see your abilities through with the fullest of extent," said Arya. He nodded and then turned to Eragon.

The two of them stood still staring at one another. It was hard to believe them half brothers. No, for Eragon resembled an elf now, much than being a human. His ears were pointed, Murtagh's were round. His face slender, Murtagh's broad. His chin angled, Murtagh's strong. It was refined against roughness. Then Murtagh held out his hand. "Fly well, Eragon."

He stared at it for a moment. Before he hesitantly gripped it. "And you continue your training. Though I know it is frustrating, you cannot give up. Now more than ever."

"I know." Murtagh inclined his head. "Please send my regards to Nasuada."

"I will."

"And tell mother and Brom that I miss them."

Eragon nodded. It was odd to imagine that more than half a year ago or more, that he hated Murtagh to the very core of his existence. And ever since he joined the Varden he found it difficult to maintain a resolute coldness towards his half brother. But that had all changed. He had changed.

They parted with solemn farewells. Saphira and Eridor soared over the tangled forest and Oromis and the others dwindled behind them. Despite the hardships of his stay, Eragon would miss being among the elves, for he found the tranquility and peace soothing to his mind.

Before entirely leaving they made a stop at Tialdari Hall. Saphira landed in the enclosed gardens, careful not to damage any of the plants with her tail or claws. Eragon leaped off without warning as a male elf came out to greet them. It was Arya that address the elf, saying that she wanted to seek an audience with Queen Islanzadi. The elf said, "Please wait here, Princess Arya."

Not five minutes later, the queen herself emerged from the wooden depths of Tialdari Hall, her crimson tunic like a drop of blood among the white robed elf lords and ladies who accompanied her. After the appropriate forms of addresses were observed, she said, "Oromis informed me of your intentions to leave us. I am displeased by this, but one cannot resist the will of fate."

When Arya showed no intentions of speaking, Eragon began. "No, your majesty. But before we left we came to pay our respects before departing. You have been most considerate of us, and we thank you and your House for clothing, lodging, and feeding us. We are in your debt."

"Never in our debt, Rider. We but repaid a little of what we owe you and the dragons for our miserable failure in the Fall. I am gratified though, that you appreciate our hospitality." She paused, her eyes turned to Arya. "When you arrive in Surda, convey my royal salutations to Lady Nasuada and King Orrin and inform them that out warriors will soon attack the northern half of the Empire. If fortune smiles upon us, we shall catch Galbatorix off guard and, give time, divide his forces."

"As you wish…mother." So it was time to rage a full scale war, though Eragon as he took in the information but it would be a dangerous one filled with magic. He glanced at the elf lords and ladies. Arya alone was capable of killing hundreds of soldiers, but an army of elves? It was a dangerous thought.

Islanzadi extended a hand and one of the elf lords handed her a shallow, unadorned wooden box. "Oromis had his gifts for you, and I have mine. Let them remind you of your time spent in Ellesmera under the dusky pines," she opened the box revealing a long, dark bow with reflexed limbs and curled tips nestled on a bed of velvet. Beside it lay a quiver of new arrows fletch with white swan feathers. "It seemed only proper that you should have one of our bows since you share our strength and appearance. I sang it myself from a yew tree. The string will never break. And so long as you use these arrows, you will be hard-pressed to miss your target, even if the wind should gust during your shot."

He bowed. "You honor me that you saw fit to give me the labor of your hand."

Islanzadi nodded and then stepped past him and said, "Saphira, I bought you no gifts because I could not think of nothing your might need or want, but if there is aught of ours you desire, name it and it shall be yours."

_I desire nothing for dragons do not need the secular objects of the world, _said Saphira, _No, I am content with all that you've done for Eragon. I shall never forget it._

The queen nodded before at last turning to Arya who remained quiet throughout the entire procession. She placed both her hands on each of her daughter's shoulders. "Arya, it pains me to see you leave the forest so soon especially after what you've endured. But because of your duty, it must be so. Be careful. There is much pain in war."

"As I've learned, mother."

Islanzadi gazed at her daughter before embracing her, Arya returning it after a moment. And with that she bade them farewell, turning to return into the hall. Eragon turned and climbed back onto Saphira, strapping his legs in as Arya did the same.

The two of them took flight and for the sake of the elves circle atop the city for a few minutes. With his enhanced vision, Eragon could see clusters of elves drift out of Du Weldenvarden with solemn expressions. With an almighty roar, Saphira released a torrent of flames and seconds later Eridor responded in kind.

Then she aimed south and tore through the sky towards the Hadarac Desert, Eridor flying beside her. Eragon glanced at Arya, her long ebony hair flowing behind her in the wind and sent her a smile that she responded to in kind. They were leaving to meet the destiny that awaited them in Surda.

**Who are we going to see? AxE of course! The moment you've all been waiting for has finally come! Your dreams shall come true soon enough (lol). Anyways, the next chapter is done and I'm about to send it to my beta so maybe it'll be up tomorrow or in a few more days. Who knows? But know this, it shall not disappoint you, my devoted readers!**


	38. Chapter 33

**Okay so I want to say sorry to my wonderful Beta because I need to get this chapter up! I really do but this will be the last time I'm uploading something without him checking it over. I feel bad. But the reason being is that I typed this chapter with a resolution in mind and I wanted to see it up and posted before I could change my mind. But hopefull this chapter and the rest coming after it shall not disappoint you all. Thoughts on this chapter please! Happy Reading! :)**

It only took the dragons a day of flying until they reached the outskirt of Du Weldenvarden. The rippling grass gave way to tan scrub, which grew ever more scarce until, in turn, it was replaced by sunbaked ground bare of all but the most hardy plants. They had to stop and rest that night for Eridor was still in his gangly youth to fly continuously. It was an uneventful but enjoyable journey. He often spoke to Saphira throughout the flight and sometimes when Arya was up to it, her as well.

And like the time they traveled together through the forest, Eragon had decided to come up with another game. But this time it was a sore mistake for Arya bested him in every turn, for the game was riddles. Whenever he gave her one it didn't take her more than a few minutes before she deciphered its meaning while he had a much more difficult time.

Sometimes the dragon would join in, but mostly they kept to themselves for Eragon knew that they two of them were conversing with one another. No doubt sharing memories and emotions. One time, Eragon had to smile when he saw a flash of Eridor chasing a deer in Du Weldenvarden and in his haste, tripped over a fallen log. Another time he cringed when Saphira showed the emerald dragon the memory of his first flight which caused Arya's mind which was joined with his to tinge with amusement.

On the third day since leaving Ellesmera, the wind rose up behind them and wafted the dragons farther than they could have flown on their own, carrying them entirely out of the Hadarac desert. Near the edge of the waste, they passed over horse mounted nomads who were garbed in flowing robes to ward against the heat. The men shouted in their rough tongue and shook their swords and spears at the dragons but made no attempt to shoot an arrow at Eridor and Saphira.

That night, they made camp at the southernmost end of Silverwood Forest, which lay along Lake Tudosten and was named so because it was composed almost entirely of beeches, willows, and trembling poplars. Instead of taking shelter in the forest itself, they made camp near the lake so the dragons could clean their scales of the sand for Saphira complained that it itched her endlessly when it managed to get stuck deep between her scales.

After collecting some firewood, Eragon squatted in the center of their camp next to the lake and lit a fire for night was fast in coming. While Arya was sitting on the shore of the lake conversing with the dragons, he moved to his bags that he packed his scrolls and texts in and began to review them and the information that he'd collected while he was in Ellesmera. There was nothing useful that could help him, for he had gone over the details and information multiple times. He sighed as he sat there in the light of the fire trying to figure out a way to save his soul.

The violet seal had gradually disappeared the morning they left Ellesmera but he knew that is power still remained for he hadn't had an attack since the Agaeti Blodhren. Even then he couldn't trust in the dragons power for he didn't know how long it would last and whether or not if certain conditions could bring about its disappearance altogether.

He reached up to touch his right eye again. What was it? He'd drawn out the star like pattern on a scroll but there wasn't a text about it that he'd come across it in. Was it the dragons' doings or Galbatorix's?

After a few moments, he heard the sound of Arya's soft footsteps and closed the scrolls he had opened. He didn't want her to see it. Just as he'd finished packing it away, she lowered herself on the ground opposite him. Ever since leaving Ellesmera, her relaxed disposition had disappeared replacing a cautious and alerted elf.

Eragon could tell that she wanted to ask about the scrolls and texts but being her, she didn't ask instead she pointed to a distance across the lake. "The dragons have left." He blinked and turned. True to her word, they weren't swimming in the lake like he'd saw them moments ago. They were no doubt mating. He grimaced at the thought of possibly feeling Saphira's emotions. "You seem displeased."

Eragon shook his head. "I just don't want my emotions to be overcome by Saphira's. It can be rather overwhelming."

Arya nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her pointed ear as it fell before her face. "I admit that it can be." She remained quiet for a moment before speaking again. "You seem much better."

"I am." he threw a piece of firewood into the fire, watching as sparks crackled and flew into the air. He turned back to Arya, curious. "Are your people ready to go to war with the Varden against the Empire and Galbatorix?"

"We've had a century to prepare for this moment and now that it's come, we will not remain idle in the forest anymore." Her eyes drifted towards the fire. "It may have been a century since our army has marched but when we do; we can cause as much destruction as we can sing to flowers and trees. And my mother being an able commander will see to it that our name is not forgotten in history."

He nodded. "And so we've made the first move in this game we call war."

Her green eyes were bright as she considered him. "And so it would seem." She paused. "Are you ready to fight this war? It will be a long and arduous task."

"I'm just as ready as you are, Arya," said Eragon as he drew a pattern into the dirt beside him. "However long I have to fight to reach Galbatorix, I will fight even if it costs me my life. I won't let him take what's mine anymore."

"Your revenge?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. "He'll pay for what he's done in full and whoever gets in my way will be cut down by my blade." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I apologize if I'm merging my personal matters into the affairs of the Varden but I refuse to let his reign stand anymore."

"It is not my place to say."

He nodded and glanced up at the sky, they would only have a few hours respite before they left again. "You should rest; I'll take the first watch." Without another word, she laid down facing the fire for the warmth of the flames before closing her eyes. Within ten minutes her breathing had evened out and she'd fallen into the slumber that most elves wrapped themselves in. Eragon sat there, finally able to see her for the first time. She was a very beautiful person. There wasn't a flaw on her that he could point out and he knew that he was attracted to her but he wasn't fool enough to approach her. He would never do such a thing for it would only burden her.

Arya was the first person beside his mother, Saphira, and his servants that he wanted to protect with his life. That he wanted to see smile from deep down in her heart. He didn't understand it, the tenderness he felt for Arya. He wasn't even sure what he was feeling for the elf. Was it a deep friendship or was it something else? As he sat there gazing at her slender and angled face, he felt the same emotion stir within him as it had countless times before that he'd brushed off. This time it was stronger because of the connection that Saphira and Eridor shared.

He couldn't understand it. He couldn't understand what he felt for Arya. Sighing, he stood and walked to stand on the shore of the lake. Just thinking of it made him feel restless. Tossing his blades onto the ground, he did the one thing that came to mind as he stared at the smooth surface of the water.

Swim.

Not bothering to remove any of his clothes, he waded deep into the water until it was level with his shoulders, the coolness of it seeping into his bones and relaxing his tense muscles. Without another word, he took in a deep breath and submerged himself in the water. Letting his instincts take over, he swam endlessly without a thought in mind.

But after a moment it would drift back towards Arya. What was happening to him? Was it because of Saphira and Eridor mating? He couldn't make sense of it. With a thought of frustration, he swam upwards breaking the surface of the water. Flying a few feet into the air, he leaned forward; bring his hands together in front of him before spearing back into the water. He had to stop thinking. But that in itself was an impossible quest. Eventually after an hour or two of nonstop swimming, Eragon came to a stop.

His body ached but it got his mind off of the subject altogether. Ready to return to the camp to sleep, Eragon began to walk to the shore of the lake, stopping with the water mid chest when he caught sight of Arya standing there before him. She stood waist deep in the water. Suddenly feeling self conscious, Eragon remained there staring at her.

She slowly moved forward towards him, her emerald eyes bright in the dark. "Forgive me for the intrusion but I was unable to sleep." Her voice floated over to him, loud in the silence of the night. "And it seems like you too have something on your mind, Eragon."

He didn't say anything but blinked at her. The second he opened his eyes again, she was gone. What? Glancing over the surface of the water as he searched for her, Eragon called out her name, "Arya?"

There was movement behind him and as he turned, she emerged from underneath the water letting out a breath of air as her familiar scent of crushed pine needles filled his nose. As his eyes focused on her, he felt his breath catch in his throat. She looked much different in the moonlight. Even though she was drenched in water and her hair clung to her face and back, she was still very beautiful. _What's wrong with me?_

He was beyond irritated at his reaction to Arya. It had never happened to him before and he couldn't imagine why it would start now all of the sudden. "You look refreshed." To this she awarded him a smile as her left forefinger began to draw patterns on the surface of the lake, creating ripples in the water.

"It is hard not to be," she paused, her eyes glancing back at him. "Is there something bothering you, Eragon?"

There were many things bothering him but he didn't say that instead he shook his head, "No."

Her eyes narrowed for she didn't believe him he could tell and she asked the question again this time in the ancient language. He stood there for a moment trying to speak around the language but as she'd anticipated he couldn't get the words out.

She turned away from him and instead faced the new moon that hung high in the sky, giving her milk honeyed skim a glowing look. "It was a new moon that night when you rescued me from Gil'ead many months ago." He waited for her to continue. "And in the time that we've spent together we're always saving one another, aren't we? Back in Farthen Dur when you rescued me from Durza, when I saved your life in Du Weldenvarden from the arrow and your illness."

"Circles within circles," murmured Eragon.

She continued as if he hadn't interrupted her. "You said I had saved you back in Gil'ead but it doesn't seem that way."

"What are you talking about?" Eragon asked slowly and hesitantly.

"I know that something is amiss," her emerald eyes found his and the piercing gaze seemed to stare right into his soul. "I've seen it throughout our travels together. You're ill, Eragon. In both mind and body and it doesn't seem to be getting any better."

He glanced down at the dark glossy surface of the water, trying to figure out how to move about the situation without telling Arya about his condition. "I have gotten better." It was true in a way, ever since the Agaeti Blodhren, his mind had been sound.

Even though he'd said it in the ancient language, she ignored it, as if he hadn't said anything at all. "Master Oromis and my mother have been searching for something. Something that could be found in ancient scrolls and texts of magic, the same answers that you are searching for, Eragon." She paused. "I know that I speak out of bounds but I want to help you…however I can."

He stared at her moved by her words but he couldn't bring himself to say it to her. He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge the fact that his condition was still a threat to him and that even the dragon's magic couldn't cure him of it entirely. When he didn't speak, Arya glanced from him to the moon again. "It is your soul that's troubling you, is it not?"

Eyes widening, Eragon felt his mind go blank for a moment, how did Arya know? "I—"

"What is it Eragon?" she whispered her eyes returning to him.

"You can't help me…" he said, feeling his barriers slowly drop before Arya. Barriers that he tried so hard to keep up. "No one can…not Master Oromis…not Queen Islanzadi…not even Saphira can help me."

"Tell me," her expression was one of concern as she stood before him in the lake, refusing to back down. And for the first time, he was able to experience her stubbornness. She had never refused a lack of answer from him before. But now….

He blinked, and in a low voice told her everything. His lack of half his heart and half of his soul. The bloodlust of the spirit that was chained inside his body that was trying to worm its way in control of his body and his life. That her mother and Oromis had tried countless methods to save him some dangerous, others not so much. By the time he'd finished, her expression went from concern to grief.

"It can't be," Arya whispered.

"I wish it wasn't," said Eragon. "But it is." He sighed. "The dragons have tried their hardest to heal me. But how can you someone that isn't ill but incomplete? Without the other half of my being, I can't live as two halves of one whole. My soul doesn't have the energy to sustain my body and mind."

"But what of the spirit inside you?"

"He was locked away inside my body to keep me from dying for his magic was enough to sustain my life. Without him I will die. But if I'm not careful his need for bloodlust will drive me to insanity. If he takes control of me, he can bend my will with ease." Realization flashed in her eyes and he was sure that she was remembering the time that he had attacked her in the sparring field within Ellesmera.

She didn't say anything for a while and he was sure that she would remain that way for quite some time. After a moment, Arya reached forward, and laid a hand on the right side of his face. Her thumb gently caressed the skin underneath his right eye. "The seal in your right eye…is that keeping the spirit at bay?"

He nodded. "But I don't know for how long or whether or not it'll come off at any moment's notice."

Arya stared at his right eye for a long moment and then she did something he would never suspect her to do. To anyone. She kissed him on the brow over his right eye. Her lips were smooth as it brushed against his skin.

When she pulled away, he found himself staring at her with a mixture of shock and astonishment. What did she just do? The skin where her lips brushed him burned. "I want to stand by you, Eragon…as your friend…as a fellow dragon rider…" she hesitated as if unsure of whether or not to continue. Then steeling herself, she finished her last statement. "And as your mate."

If what she did shocked him, what she said made his mind stop its functions altogether. And he found himself questioning whether or not there was water in his ears making him hear her wrong. "You've asked me whether or not I loved Faolin, and I too have wondered that. In the twenty years that we've traveled together, though I did feel strongly for him, I was not as certain of them as I am now. But in the short amount of time I've spent with you, Eragon. I felt things I've never felt and seen things in new perspectives that I've never thought I would see." She smiled wryly. "You are changing me as Eridor is."

He stared at her, still not comprehending what she was trying to say to him. Everything seemed to remain still, not one sound seemed to penetrate the silence that settled over them. Even the lake was still. "It goes against reason…for I am older than you by decades and yet all this time, I can never see you as anyone else besides my equal. In strength, in wisdom, and in knowledge," her eyes twinkled at the last statement. "You may be young Eragon, but certainly not a child. Not after all you've gone through. You're wise beyond your years and you are nothing like I would expect most to be. There may be those who will look down on my decision for taking such a young mate, but it is of little concern to me. If you feel anything for me then allow me to return my own feelings for the life of solitude that I've led up until now has slowly blinked passed my eyes."

Eragon felt horribly confused. This was the first time, he'd never thought of such a confession from Arya and yet something inside him swelled at her words. An emotion that was foreign and yet comforting.

He noticed how his silence was affecting her for she'd turned her head face away from him, her eyes raised to the star dotted sky and the new moon that hung over them. "Arya," he murmured softly, she turned to face him again, "I don't have anything to give you in return for your feelings. My own isn't enough. I've done horrible deeds…my hands are stained with blood…they aren't for tender caresses."

Her hand came to grip his upper left arm. "You're a good person, Eragon. You've done the best in your situation and even now, you're still trying your best. Let the past be and move forward towards the future."

What was he supposed to do? He'd never had experience in areas such as this. In his entire life, he rarely associated himself with women romantically and never thought that he would. Staring into Arya's eyes, he felt the emotion in his chest burst forth nearly encompassing all of his being. A blazing warmth that he'd never felt before in his life. Instinctively moving forward, he placed a hand on the side of Arya's face. He leaned forward, before hesitating, unsure of himself. But Arya wouldn't stand for his hesitation and closed the remaining distance between them her lips meeting his softly.

Almost immediately, his brain was overwhelmed by the intoxicating fragrance of crushed pine needles and of Arya…It was a strong feeling of ardor that he felt for her, so strong that it warmed him from the inside out. As her lips brushed against his, he hesitantly responded to her at first. But with time, he began to return her kisses, to lean into her, and to part his lips and receive them. Despite the fact that they stood chest deep in the lake, his body was aflame as if he was being burned alive but he didn't feel the pain. Instead he felt a warmth that throughout his travel had been growing and growing with every moment he'd spent with her. Their time together fighting, learning, and conversing with one another. All of those moments in which they came to rely on the other's strength. When she dove willingly into his dangerous mind, when she came after him after his attack. And he knew that Arya would never let him fall.

When he felt Arya's tongue sliding against his lips, he pulled away slightly shocked. She stared at him, her eyes dark and her lips a darker shade of red they normally were. "I'm not sure how…to…" he stopped unsure of what else to say.

To his surprise, she burst out laughing. And the few times he'd heard her laugh, he treasured above all. Smiling up at him, she reached forward again, disrupting the water. "It is all right, Eragon." She leaned forward to capture his lips again. "You will learn soon enough."

And he did. Eventually, when he'd allowed her entrance to his mouth, it felt strange at first but when her tongue gently brushed his, a jolt ran the length of his body. And he instinctively responded to her. After a few light caresses, she became more demanding and he found himself responding in kind. As his lips moved in rhythm with hers, he brought his hand up to wrap tangled itself in her silky hair while the other wrap itself around her slim and slender waist. Though he didn't know what he was doing, he knew that he was right in doing so for her arms came to wrap themselves around his strong neck. As they stood there wrapped in each other's embraces, he felt wonderfully light hearted and for the first time in a long time, truly happy. And it was because of Arya.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Angela's voice echo in his mind like a long forgotten song. _An epic romance is in your future, extraordinary, as the moon indicates—for that is a magical symbol—and strong enough to outlast empires. I cannot say if this passion will end happily, but your love is of noble birth and heritage. She is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare._

Well, at least she was correct he thought humorously. She is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare. And so begins his epic romance…together with Arya.

**So what do you think? Good, bad, eh? Anyways, I had always planned for them to get together towards the end of Eldest. My reasoning? There wasn't a good enough time to put it in Brisingr and definitely not Inheritance. I tried to plot towards a Brisingr moment but it felt like the romance was being dragged out to the point that its spread kind of thin. And I felt that this moment was perfect. They're outside of the influence of Du Weldenvarden and Arya just wants to confess before they're swamped into war and politics all over again. Good thinking right? I think so. Anyways, I'm already halfway through the next chapter and I'm having so much fun. If you think you enjoy reading this, just think about writing it! See you all next chapter! :)**


	39. Chapter 34

**And so here is the next chapter! You know I've been doing really well with updates, I'm kind of proud of myself. Anyways, I already have two more chapters finished but I'm going to give it some time before I update those. Or maybe I'll update one later today or tomorrow? Who knows? Oh, and I was listening to this song by Three Doors Down called Let Me Go and I feel that it explains Eragon's feelings to Arya in the first two books of Inheritance. He _loves_ her but doesn't actually know her well enough...It was a good song. And I'm rereading the cycle again, just to remember the good times...It was a fun run, I have to admit. I'm glad I read it eight years ago, it was like growing up in a magicial world like Harry Potter. Speaking of which does anyone know any good fiction series out there? I need another good read with Inheritance, the Harry Potter Series, and the Hunger Games over. Anyways, I'm ranting, have fun reading! :)**

The following morning, they flew straight to Aberon, the capital of Surda guided by Arya for she knew the way seeing that she'd occasionally visited the city during her time as ambassador to her mother. They hadn't slept since her rather bold confession to Eragon. But she had her reasons for doing so for her doubts about his illness was only hardened by what Master Oromis and Glaedr had told Eragon before he'd left. _To guard his heart_. And from the connection she made when she saw the research he was doing that was all related to the topic of the soul as well as his own statement to her that night of the Agaeti Blodhren. _I'm afraid only half of my heart is in this decision. _And she was right despite the fact that she wished that she wasn't. Eragon's soul was stolen from him, taken by Galbatorix and without it he would die. The thought of it made a chill run the length of her body.

She found herself often glancing at Eragon who was sitting atop Saphira at ease despite the thousands of feet they flew above ground. Ever since the Agaeti Blodhren, she'd found herself facing a new Eragon in appearance and voice but that was the only thing different about him. Everything else was the same when she'd first met him. Subconsciously rubbing the scales on Eridor's neck, she thought about his reaction last night to her words. Utter shock and astonishment. Even Eridor was surprised by the turn of events but he had approved of Eragon without hesitation and Saphira seemed rather ecstatic. But what seemed to change the most between them was the knowledge of what one felt for the other. He had not turned away from her last night in the lake but stood his ground and returned her caresses and kisses. And it wasn't until quite a moment after did she pull away to suggest returning to dry ground for the chilled water ate away at her bones.

She caught his brown eyes as he flew to her left, he favored her a small smile that she returned in kind. But before she could turn away, her gaze lingered a little longer on his right eye.

It was late afternoon when they arrived at Aberon, a low, walled city centered around a bluff in an otherwise flat landscape. Borromeo Castle occupied the top of the bluff. The rambling citadel was protected by three concentric layers of walls, numerous towers, and to her distaste, hundreds of ballistae for shooting down dragons. As they descended downward to the inner ward of the castle, she could see the alarm rising in the people. The sight of two dragons must have unsettled them greatly. The horses tethered in the yard didn't neigh in an uproar like she'd thought. She turned to Eragon to find him dismounting from Saphira without a care in the world. It must be his doing. She followed suit.

Eragon with a show of grace an ease sidled up next to her. "It would be a sad sight when they realize how ineffective their ballistae would be against foes such as us."

His statement amused her greatly and she was about to reply before a company of twelve men, some soldiers, hurried out of the keep towards them. They were led by a tall man with the same dark skin as Nasuada. Halting ten paces away, the man bowed—as did his followers—then said, "Welcome Riders, I am Dahwar, son of Kedar. I am King Orrin's seneschal."

She inclined her head, regarding Dahwar and his company which caused some to fidget where they stood. And within the emotions that she felt throughout the city a tinge of lust edged its way into the ocean of thoughts. She ignored it, used to those feelings in her presence. "And I, Arya ambassador to the Queen of the elves." She didn't use her mother's nor her father's name a habit she'd grown into since she'd left Du Weldenvarden seventy years ago.

The others responded in kind and once introductions were out of the way, they drove to the heart of the matter.

Dahwar bowed again. "I apologize that no one of higher rank than myself is present to greet guests as noble as you, but King Orrin, Lady Nasuada, and all of the Varden have long since marched towards the Empire." Arya nodded, she'd expected as much. "They left orders that if you came here seeking them, you should join them directly."

Eragon's stance changed and knowing him, she could perceive that he was slightly amused. She raised a brow at him and he raised one back, his expression reading, _where else would we go? _It made her want to laugh lightly but she didn't. Instead she turned back to Dahwar.

"Can you show us a map how to find them?"

"Of course, ma'am. While I have that fetched, would you care to step out of the heat and partake in some refreshments?"

"We have no time to waste," said Arya. "The heat matters little."

They turned to Eragon to await his answer. He unfolded his arms and said in a voice unlike his own that she was used to, "A cup of refreshment would be welcomed." One of Dahwar's followers was sent to fetch it. Arya turned back to the man when it seemed he was done talking. Then she began requesting for the provisions that they would need before setting off again. A week's worth provision of fruits and vegetables as well as bread and for their waterskins to be refilled.

Dahwar snapped his fingers, sending another two servants into the keep to gather the supplies. While everyone in the ward was waiting for the men to return he asked directly to Eragon, "Please excuse my impertinence, sir, for I am ignorant of the ways of the Riders, but are you not human? I was told you were."

"That he is," Arya answered, she hesitated, "His appearance only was changed but his origins are still undoubtedly human." Dahwar was tactful enough not to pursue the matter, but she was positive that he would've paid a handsome price for more information for it would put King Orrin on an even playing field as Nasuada.

The food, water, and map were soon brought by two wide eyed pages. At her words, they deposited them beside the dragons, looking terrified as they did, and then retreated behind Dahwar. Kneeling on the ground, he unrolled the map and drew a line northwest from Aberon to Cithri. "Last I heard, King Orrin and Lady Nasuada stopped here for provender. The Varden could be anywhere between Cithri and the Jiet River. This is only my humble opinion, but I would say the best place to look for them would be the Burning Plains."

Arya nodded, she knew of the Burning Plains in her studies or as her people called it: Du Vollar Eldrvarya. _Take a look Eridor, Saphira._

The two of them took a step back to allow the dragons to lean forward to observe the map and as they did so, Arya motioned to Eragon who stood drinking from the wooden cup that was given to him. He gave her a questioning expression but moved towards her. "Is something the matter?" he asked softly.

"No," she glanced at Dahwar who looked interested in what the dragons where doing but she could tell that he was trying his best to glean any sort of information from them that he could. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he took another drink of water before holding the cup out to her. "Would you like some? It is rather refreshing."

"No thank you." She waved the cup away watching as he took another long drink. "I've had enough water for today."

He chuckled and she could see that he was remembering last night as they stood together in Lake Tudosten. "I have no doubt of that."

When they dragons were done studying the map, they prepared to leave. In short order, she and Eragon packed the supplies, and remounted their dragons. She thanked Dahwar for his services as they were about to take off again. But before they left, Eragon had warned Dahwar of the discord and possible murder brewing between two grooms in the stables.

Arya frowned, that was one reason why she disliked humans sometimes. They were so quick to act on feelings rather than judgment. _But you've taken a human for a mate._

_That isn't entirely so, he is not one to act on emotions alone. _Arya answered her eyes flickering to Eragon and back to the open sky before her.

_That is true, _Eridor was quiet for a moment before he spoke again, _what will you do about his condition?_

_I…do not know, _her answer irritated her for she refused to acknowledge that there was no other way to save Eragon. _Galbatorix wouldn't want Eragon to die. Not when he is the rider of the last female dragon. We know that for certain. And so we can only believe that he will also being trying to keep Eragon alive long enough for us to approach Uru'baen._

_I have no doubt that there is a way to save him, but we must hurry and find the answers we need for it isn't just only Eragon who is affected by the spirit._

She nodded; understanding where Eridor was trying to get at for Saphira was also part of Eragon's mind and soul. Whatever happened to Eragon would have an equal affect on Saphira through their connection. By unspoken consent, they did not stop for the night but rather forged onward through the blackened sky. Of the moon and stars they saw no sign despite the new moon the night before. The dead hours came and went without remiss and when the sun finally returned did the dragons land by the edge of a small lake so Eragon and Arya could stretch their legs and carry out the normal procedures of everyday life that they were unable to do on dragon back.

"It seems we are closing to the Varden," Eragon commented as they sat and ate together.

Arya nodded she'd gleaned as much from the memories of the birds that flew overhead. "It would seem that way."

They continued to eat in silence. Every once and a while she would glance up to find Eragon intently staring at her before quickly glancing away. When she caught him again, she sighed letting a soft sound from her throat. "What is it Eragon?"

"What?" he raised his brow as if he wasn't quite aware of what she was saying. "I was just…admiring…"

This time, she raised her brow in disbelief. It was hard to image him taken by her appearance so when for the past months he didn't even raises a question or look towards her that spoke otherwise. It was new coming from Eragon but not unwelcomed like most approaches she'd received during her lifetime. Arya finished the pear in her hand before moving to sit in front of him, forcing him to look at her straight in the eye. He wasn't the one for initiating intimacy. For he had never experienced it before and though she didn't either, she knew enough to cover common ground for the both of them.

Without warning, she leaned forward and caught his lips with her surprising him. The apple he was eating fell to the ground as he instinctively reached up to intertwine his fingers in her hair. A small smirk slowly formed on her lips when she thought of Eragon's immediate response to her. He may be indifferent to most, but not to her.

After a moment, she pulled away to find Eragon staring at her with an intent expression. "We're mates, Eragon," said Arya, her voice low. "And as such, tender caresses and intimate gestures are common…or will be common between the two of us."

He nodded, "Forgive me; it's just so new…"

"That makes two of us." Her statement seemed to put him at ease for it shined light on the fact that she too was getting acquainted to the idea of them being an intimate couple. She watched as he picked up his apple which was dirtied from the ground before tossing it to the side and grabbing another apple to eat. While he was doing so, she resumed sitting on the ground, pulling out Tamerlein to study. It truly was a beautiful sword, now the only one devoid of a Rider's blade was Eragon. But he didn't seem to mind for his two blades were enough for him.

As she sat there studying the emerald blade, Eragon's reflection was caught in its smooth surface. When he'd realized that she'd saw him, he gestured with his hand to her sword. "You've yet to test out your new blade, Arya."

"There hasn't been a need to draw it from its sheath," said Arya.

"And that is why I'm offering my services," he smiled slightly. "Would you like to spar with me?"

She considered it for a minute, glancing at the dragons, who laid together resting for the moment before shrugging. "Of course." She stood in a fluid motion drawing Tamerlein from its sheath readying it in her hand. It was light as a feather. Eragon positioned himself a good ten yards away from her pulling out both of his swords. After dulling their blades they stood there face to face with one another. This time it was different, despite the countless hours that they'd spent sparring one another in Ellesmera, this session had a different atmosphere.

Her eyes caught a slight movement of his hand and she knew that he would attack her soon. He did. Eragon usually prevailed in their matches. She'd only managed, rarely, to defeat him a handful of times. Her pride when sparring Eragon was always slightly diminished after every practice. But this time, it would be different. She was sure of it. As Eragon approached her, she closed her mind to everything but him. He always feinted the first move, when he would strike and miss, his instinct was to immediately fall back and defend his flank.

He did just that, when he swung for her shoulders and she easily side stepped it, he drew back, jumping a good five yards away. But this time, she followed not giving him the time he needed to regain his bearings. His expression of slight surprise met her eyes as their blades met. He was stronger than her and she knew that she wasn't going to win from brute strength. The only attribute that she had that trumped his was her knowledge and agility. Dancing backwards from his blade, she brought up Tamerlein to deflect a blow.

There was one strategy that she wanted to try but it was a risk…

Deciding to take it, she waited for Eragon to collect himself and then extended a hand towards him, beckoning to him with her fingers. He'd answered to her taunt and came rushing for her. Eragon was too safe with his strength. He was confident in his abilities to defeat her and didn't need to plan ahead before him but she knew him better. When he was but two yards away, she flashed him a bright and wide smile. His reaction was what she'd predicted.

He faltered mid-step entranced by her beauty, his swords halting in mid stroke. A touch of pride entered her mind at her ability to render Eragon into confusion. Without hesitation, she drew up Tamerlein and with the hilt of her sword knocked it into his chest, sending him flying to the ground with a resounding thud, his swords flying from his grip. Before he could get up, she gently laid the tip of Tamerlein against his chest. "Dead."

Eragon laid there for a moment, stunned, his brown eyes staring up into space. Then he began to chuckle before laughing outright. "What in the name of Alagaesia was that technique?"

She smiled as she stared down at him. "A technique that I've reserved especially for you."

He grinned, relaxed despite his loss to her in their match. "If I hadn't known any better I would've called you out for cheating."

"Cheating? No. Exploiting a weakness in my opponent? Yes." Letting Tamerlein drop to her side, she held her hand out to help Eragon up. He laid there chuckling for a few more moments before gripping her hand and standing. With ease, he brushed the dirt from his clothes and went to retrieve his swords with grace. "Would you like to try one more time?"

Eragon nodded. "After that defeat, it is only fair that I redeem myself."

That was the answer she'd expected from him. Going onto a defensive position, she waited for him to approach her but he didn't do it in the way that she'd expected. Instead of running straight for her like he'd used to, he was more cautious and his eyes moved every which way as if assessing her movements. She flicked her hair out of her face and sent him another smile, this time not bothering to unsettle him. He returned it with ease. It seemed that lately, she was able to see him happy. Though she knew it wasn't going to last seeing that they were returning to the Varden where Brom was. There was no doubt in her mind that his family reunion would be anything but awkward.

He moved forward cautiously and she retreated in return, neither gaining on the other. He moved three paces to the right and she moved three paces to the left. To the side, she could feel the dragons' amusement at their practice. And she had to admit, it was somewhat amusing in its own right. She was sure that once they returned to the Varden, the light atmosphere about them would disappear with the emergence of war.

And it wasn't often that she saw him in such a light mood. It must have been the seal over his right that was allowing him the peace to see the world for the first time. Then as if forgoing caution he ran forward arching in towards her from her right. She turned to bring Tamerlein up to block one of his blows. But before she could pull away, his blades encircled hers holding it in place and it became a struggle to free her sword before Eragon could execute his next move. But as she went to do so, he moved his head forward as if to hit her down but instead, he kissed her. Surprise took hold of her for she didn't expect him to initiate gestures as intimate as this between the two of them so quickly. She'd thought it would be her at the end of all their interactions together. Distracted, he easily dislodged Tamerlein from her hand, the blade falling to the ground without resistance.

"Dead," he murmured against her lips. She smiled, knowing full well that if the opponent was any one else besides Eragon, a situation such as this would never happen. It didn't hurt, however, to indulge him. Reaching out with her right hand, she fisted his tunic in her hand pulling him against her. For some reason, every time she kissed him, a flame would erupt in her stomach and she would find it impossible to sate the ever growing fire. It was a feeling she couldn't control and as much as it unsettled her, she found it enjoyable.

When they needed to separate for air, Eragon gave her a wide smile. "What do you call that?" he raised a brow mockingly. "Exploiting a weakness in my opponent?"

She lightly laughed. "I only hope that you don't approach your real enemies with such an attitude. They will not be as…welcoming." Her statement seemed to amuse him greatly.

_What a match, _Saphira's voice echoed in her head. The two of them turned to her. The sapphire dragon was staring at them, her jaws parted in a frightening imitation of a toothy grin. _If I didn't know any better, it would be an odd sight to behold indeed._

_And slightly disturbing, _Eridor added jokingly.

"I've no doubt about that," said Eragon as he nodded. "We are quite the pair."

"That we are," agreed Arya, she bent down to pick up Tamerlein. Removing the wards about the blade, she returned it to its sheath, Eragon doing the same to his swords. Brushing any dust that had collected on her shoulders off, she straightened her hair out of her face. "If we get the chance, I would like to spar with you more, Eragon."

"It won't be as easy," he warned. "I've few weaknesses, it just happens to be that you are one of them."

Flattered by his words but not showing it, she nodded. "I'm sure I can find the rest soon enough."

"I'm sure you're right." He blinked before turning his head upwards to glance at the sky and the placement of the sun. "It is time to continue. We've tarried for long enough."

That was right; it was time to return to the Varden. A world filled with war and bloodshed. Mounting Eridor as Eragon mounted Saphira, she felt slightly saddened at the light atmosphere they were leaving behind. Eragon wasn't going to be as relaxed in the presence of others, especially his father, and the time that they'd spent together was something she was going to cherish for the next few weeks or so.

They had just taken off again when a long, low brown cloud appeared on the edge if the horizon, like a smudge of walnut ink on a sheet of white paper. The cloud grew wider and wider as the dragons approached it and already, she could see the tension enter Eragon's form from where he sat between the juncture of Saphira's neck and shoulder.

They had reached the Burning Plains of Alagaesia.

**Personally, I loved this Arya POV, it was interesting to write about. Because her character in the cycle is somewhat indifferent but yet caring towards Eragon and to try and expand that to a love interest, it was neat. And I really enjoyed it. So from now on, I'll try to keep Arya's character in canon but it'll be hard because the series never really expressed her as a person that could respond intimately to anyone really. But I love Arya, she's probably one of my favorite female characters throughout any novel really. Well, maybe she has some competition with Ginny but then again, they're from different series. Anyways, I hoped you all enjoyed reading this! I'll upload the next chapters soon!**


	40. Chapter 35

**800 Reviews! You guys all deserve an extra chapter! (Sigh, I spoil you all :]) But a heads up this chapter and the next chapters are fillers for the upcoming battle. I need to cover everything in these chapters before I can get the action packed adventures going because from the Battle of the Burning Plains and onwards, everything is going to get crazy. I'm really excited to write the battle, I've always wanted to do an epic showdown thing or something like. But anyways have fun reading!**

Eragon coughed as Saphira descended through the layers of smoke, angling toward the Jiet River, which was hidden behind the haze. He blinked and wiped back tears. The fumes made his eyes smart. Through his connection with Saphira, he could feel her irritation at the stinging in her eyes. Closer to the ground, the air cleared, giving Eragon an unobstructed view of their destination. The rippling veil of black and crimson smoke filtered the sun's rays in such a way that everything below was bathed in a lurid orange. Next to him, he could see Arya shielding her eyes from the fumes in the air. They were not doubt smarting like his were.

The Jiet River laid before them, as thick and turgid as a gorged snake, its crosshatched surface reflecting the same ghastly hue that pervaded the Burning Plains. Even when a splotch of undiluted light happen to fall upon the river, the water appeared chalky white, opaque and opalescent and seemed to glow with an eerie luminescence all its own.

Two armies were arrayed along the eastern banks of the oozing waterway. To the south were the Varden and the men of Surda, entrenched behind multiple layers of defense, where they displayed a fine panoply of woven standards, ranks of proud tents, and the picketed horses of King Orrin's cavalry. Though strong as they were, Eragon knew that their numbers were but a small part of the army that Galbatorix possessed.

Emerging from the clouds, the dragons twisted and dove towards the Varden as fast as they dared. As they neared the camps, a sudden wave of panic assaulted his mind which was on alert for any hostilities. The Varden's sentinels were in a state of alarm for they've never actually seen Saphira or Eridor. Fear made them ignore their common sense, and they released a flock of barbed arrows that arched up to intercept them. Their aim, Eragon thought, was very precise. Rising his right hand, he murmured, "Letta orya thorna." The arrows froze in place, with a flick of his wrist and the word "Ganga," he redirected them, sending the darts boring towards barren land so they could bury themselves in the soil. He missed one though for it was sent a few seconds after the first volley. With ease, he leaned as far right as he could, and faster than any normal human and maybe even some of the swiftest elves, he plucked the arrow from the air as Saphira flew past it.

It was a plain arrow, a less elegant object than the arrows that Queen Islanzadi had bestowed upon him.

Only a hundred feet from the ground, the dragons flared their wings to slow their descent before alighting first on their hinds legs then on her front legs as they came to a running stop among the Varden's tents.

Without a second thought, Eragon dismounted Arya alighting on the ground next to him seconds later. "Did any of the arrows hit you?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "None made it past your magic to try our wards but even if they did, arrows such as those will never pierce our skins."

He had no doubt about it for he was positive that their wards would prevent the shafts from making it close to them by even a yard. But still it was always safe to ask. As they stood there, a dozen of warriors with awestruck expressions gathered about the dragons. From within their midst strode a big bear of a man whom Eragon recognized: Fredric, the Varden's weapon master from Farthen Dur, still garbed in his hairy ox-hide armor. "Come on, you slacked-jawed louts!" roared Fredric. "Don't stand here gawking; get back to your posts or I'll have the lot of you chalked up for extra watches!" at his command, the men began to disperse with many a grumbled word and backward glance. Then Fredric drew nearer and, Eragon could tell, was startled by the change in Eragon's countenance, if anything he was sure he looked unrecognizable to him anymore. Thinking about his new appearance made him feel slightly uneasy. The bearded man did his best to conceal the reaction by touching his brow and saying, "Welcome, Shadeslayer, argetlam. I can't tell you how ashamed I am you were attacked. The honor of every man here has been blackened but this mistake. Were the four of you hurt?"

"No."

Relief spread across Fredric's face. "Well, there's that to be grateful for. I've had the men responsible pulled from duty. They'll each be whipped and reduced in rank…Will that punishment satisfy you, Rider?"

"I want to see them," said Eragon.

Sudden concern emanated from Fredric; it was obvious that he feared that Eragon wanted to enact some sort of cruel and unusual punishment on the sentinels. Arya, he saw, was also curious of what he wanted but she didn't express the same concern as the weapons master did. "If you'd follow me, then, sir." He said.

He led them through the camp to a striped command tent where twenty or so miserable-looking men were divesting themselves of their arms and armor under the watchful eye of a dozen guards. At the sight of Eragon, Arya, and the dragons, the prisoners all went down on one knew and remained there, gazing at the ground. "Hail, Shadeslayer, Argetlam!" they cried.

He said nothing but walked along the line of men while he studied their minds. It reminded him of the time he served in the Empire. As commander of the Royal army, he had overseen many of the soldiers' training, as well as their punishment when they committed a wrongful crime. Finally, he stopped, turning to them. "You should be proud of your quick reaction to our appearance. If Galbatorix attacks, that's exactly what you should do, though I doubt arrows would prove any more effective against him than they were against us." The sentinels glanced up at him in disbelief. "I only ask that in the future, you take a moment to identify your target before shooting. Next time, I might be too distracted to stop your missiles. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Shadeslayer!" they shouted.

He moved to stand before the second to last man in the line and held out the arrow he'd caught. "I believe this is yours, Harwin."

With an expression of wonder, Harwin accepted the arrow from Eragon. "So it is! It has the white band Ii always paint on my shafts so I can find them later. Thank you, Shadeslayer."

He nodded before turning to Fredric. "These are good and true men, and I want no misfortune to fall upon them because of this event."

"I will see to it personally," said Fredric, and smiled. Standing behind him, Arya sent him a questioning look. Eragon slightly raised the corner of his lips.

"Now, can you take us to Lady Nasuada?"

"Yes, sir."

As he left the sentinels, Eragon knew that his kindness had earned him their undying loyalty, and that tidings of his good deeds would spread throughout the Varden. To win this war, he had to appear as their ideal vision of a warrior. And he would try his best to fill that role to support Nasuada.

The path Fredric took through the tents brought them in contact with many of the Varden. Most of them to his slight irritation stared in silent wonder at the group as they passed though he didn't know whether or not it was at the dragons or at Arya, or maybe it was at him. But what he didn't like most was the open attraction that his mate seem to be unconsciously garnering from the men that they'd passed. Even if it was just a fleeting thought or emotion.

Their trip ended near the back of the Varden, at a large red pavilion flying a pennant embroidered with a black shield and two parallel swords slanting underneath. Fredric pulled back the flap and Eragon and Arya entered the pavilion while the dragons remained outside their heads too large to fit through the opening at once.

A broad table occupied the center of the furnished tent. Nasuada stood at one end, leaning on her hands, studying slews of maps and scrolls. Though she was dressed in a gown fit for royalty, her stature was tense as if something was bothering her. Standing before her to his pleasant surprise was Desdemona and Bard.

Nasuada turned her almond shaped face towards him. "Eragon?" she whispered.

He twisted his hand over his sternum in the elves' gesture of fealty and bowed. "At your service."

"Eragon!" this time Nasuada sounded delighted and relieved. Bard and Desdemona both sent him wide smiles, one brighter than the other.

"Lord Eragon!"

"Welcome back!"

"It's good to be back with the Varden," said Eragon.

"And it's good to see you back," Nasuada turned to Arya. "You as well, Arya."

"Your words are welcoming," she answered. She glanced at the map and the apparent conference that they'd interrupted. "Has something gone amiss?"

"I shall explain later," the leader of the Varden returned her gaze to Eragon with a wondering expression. "What has happened to you, Eragon?"

And so Eragon a full account of what had befallen them since they left Nasuada in Farthen Dur so long ago. Much of what he said, he sensed that she had already heard from the dwarves, but she let him speak without interruption. Eragon had to be circumspect about his training for he had given his words not to reveal anything about his training nor his teachers. But he did his best to give Nasuada a good idea about his skills. Of the Agaeti Blodhren, he just described briefly of its healing and augmentation on both him and Murtagh. The latter interesting Nasuada to a high degree.

"Murtagh's scar is gone then?" asked Nasuada. He nodded. A few more sentences served to end his narrative, briefly mentioning the reason they had left Du Weldenvarden and then summarizing their journey thence. He hesitated when he came across he and Arya's bond as mates. As his liege lord, Nasuada had the right to know about who and how he associated with them…but it wasn't just his to tell. His eyes flickered over to Arya who was standing beside him, listening to his narrative. _Should I or should you?_

Her eyes bright, she reached up to brush her hair from her face. "There is also something you should know, Nasuada." Arya turned to him, though she spoke to the dark skinned leader of the Varden. "As Eragon's liege lord, you have the right to know that Eragon and I have become mates, the equivalent of husband and wife in your terms." To emphasis her point, her hand gently brushed his and he grasped it.

The silence that penetrated the tent was great. No one moved. As he expected they were shocked to the core about the news. Desdemona and Bard were baring expressions of such astonishment he wondered if their heart didn't stop momentarily in their chest. Nasuada was staring at them and he was positive that she'd never expected this moment to come. After a few moments, she cleared her throat. "Then let me congratulate the two of you on this union…But forgive me if I'm being frank, Arya. I hope this doesn't interfere with Eragon's duty."

"There will always be a line between personal feelings and duty," said Arya, relieving Nasuada of any doubts she had of Eragon favoring the elves over the Varden.

"Well," she smiled at them. "It is good that you two have one another. Beautiful things can come from unexpected places, don't you agree?"

"Whole heartedly," said Arya. Eragon nodded.

Desdemona and Bard seemed to have recovered from their shock and they too congratulated Eragon and Arya. Though Desdemona's statements were slightly stiff and Bard's was bordering disbelief and bewilderment. Deciding that it was time to move past his personal life, Eragon moved forward, letting go of Arya's hand to point at the maps. "What is the situation here?"

Nasuada sighed and told them of how rumors were spreading that the Empire's army was marching towards Surda to confront the Varden. Though rumors, she'd refused to let it go without caution and the entire Varden was on a high state of alert. So Galbatorix had finally tired of waiting for the Varden to confront him…Or did he have something else in mind. "It doesn't look well on the surface but with you and Arya here to lend us a hand, we can hold our ground."

"He must be hiding them using magic," said Eragon as he studied the map. "A magician as powerful as Galbatorix would have no difficulties in hiding an army of thousands as it marches across Alagaesia. He must have fooled the scrying method." He sighed as he thought. If Galbatorix was willing to send an army all the way to Surda then he wasn't fooling around anymore. "I can easily say that this force won't be small. He's no doubt sent a hundred thousand soldiers to fight."

The news seem to surprise them, but only slightly. "I've thought as much," said Nasuada. "It would be foolish to send a small force this far from his Empire."

"It will be a bloody confrontation," said Arya as she moved forward to study the maps as well, her brows creased. "But it is unavoidable after all."

"Sheer number alone isn't always the determining factor in war," said Eragon, he turned to Bard and Desdemona. "Skill and talent is what it takes to survive." The two of them nodded with proud expressions. "Do not worry yourself too much over this, Nasuada."

"It is comforting to know that I have apt fighters and magicians underneath me," she said reassured. "And the dwarves will eventually be joining us, which will boost our numbers significantly. Do you think Galbatorix will fly out to confront us?"

"No," of this, Eragon was certain. "He won't leave his castle for anything. He's too much of a coward. If he loses, he'll just count on us to march to Uru'baen." This piece of information sent a surge of energy through them, knowing that their greatest enemy wasn't coming to confront them.

Just then, Eragon felt a strange mind approaching, one that knew he was watching and yet did not shrink from the contact. He could tell that Arya must have felt it to, for she tensed, her eyes darting to the entrance to the tent. They stood there waiting as a black haired girl appeared. She stared at him with violet eyes then said, "Welcome Shadeslayer, Argetlam. Welcome Saphira and Eridor."

The sound of her voice made him uneasy for it did not belong to a child but rather an adult. "Who are you?" he asked already having an answer but wanting confirmation. Without answering the girl brushed back her glossy bangs and exposed a silvery white mark on her forehead, exactly like Eragon's gedwey ignasia. He knew whom he faced.

The child that Murtagh had blessed and suddenly he felt a strange connection to her. To feel pain at such a young age…No one moved as Eragon went to girl. Slowly dropping to one knee, Eragon took her right hand in his own; her skin burned as if with fever. She did not resist him, suddenly overwhelmed, Eragon spook to her in the ancient language as well as with his mind for her to understand. "I am sorry for your pain, a burden that you shouldn't bear as young as you are. In your heart, I hope you have room for forgiveness for what has happened to you."

Her eyes softened, "I do but only if Murtagh comes forward with his fault. For he has condemned me with a fate worse than death. My entire life is devoted to feel the suffering of those around me. His spell compels me to drive myself before pain. And when I resist these urges, it costs me greatly. I cannot sleep at night for the strength of my compulsion."

Even though the pain was not his to bear and the mistake from Murtagh, he felt a sudden ache in his chest as he thought of her condition. "It is not your fault that I am what I am, Rider." He didn't answer her. "Though you take the blame for what you have not done and shield yourself behind cold indifference, deep down you are a good person. And I thank you for feeling my pain."

"You don't have to live like this forever," said Eragon his expression determined. "The elves have taught Murtagh how to undo a spell and once he returns to the Varden, he will see to it that you're healed. If not, then I shall do it."

For a moment the girl seemed to lose her formidable self-control. A small gasp escaped her lips, her trembled against Eragon's and her eyes glistened with a film of tears. Then just as quickly, she hid her true emotions behind a mask of cynical amusement. "Well, we shall see. Either way, Murtagh must first return and even then there will be a war upon us."

He nodded, knowing that her knowledge of pain was an advantage for Nasuada in that she could sense any assassin's intentions to harm the leader of the Varden. It was a crude way of protection for she'd actually become the shield that she was intended to be. He frowned. "Elva was the one who saved me from the assassin in Aberon."

He bowed his head to Elva, "I am in your debt for saving my liege lord."

Elva inclined her head, showing that she'd accepted his gratitude. As if she'd had seen enough, Nasuada made her way around the table. "Come now," she said. "I must introduce the four of you to Orrin and his nobles. Have you met the king before Arya?"

She shook her head, "It's been a while since I've last visit Surda."

As they left the pavilion—Nasuada in the lead, with Elva by her side while Bard and Desdemona covering her flank—Eragon and Arya walked closed to one another speaking in low tones of what had transpired. And he could tell from the slight edge in her voice the sadness she felt at seeing a child like Elva forced to feel the burden of everyone's pain. Children, Eragon had came to learn, was cherished by elves beyond anything else.

They soon arrived at another large pavilion, this one white and yellow—although it was difficult to determine the exact hue of the colors. Once they were granted entrance, Eragon was slightly astonished to find the tent crammed with an eccentric collection of beakers, alembics, retorts, and other instruments of natural philosophy. Whoever had a passion for these toys, Eragon though it was a foolish idea to bring it to a battlefield.

"Eragon, Arya," said Nasuada. "I would like you to meet Orrin, son of Larkin and monarch of the realm of Surda."

From the depths of the tangled piles of glass emerged a rather tall, handsome man with shoulder-length hair held back by the gold coronet resting upon his head. His mind, like Nasuada's was protected behind walls of iron; it was obvious he had received extensive training in that skill. And thought Orrin seemed pleasant enough, Eragon found him to be eccentric in mind and he didn't trust his leadership. He seemed to want more for glory than for honor.

As they conversed, Eragon was slightly relieved that for every question that Orrin asked about his stay with the elves, Arya would easily fend them off. He found himself trying to maintain a polite appearance as each earl that paraded past him insisted on shaking his hand, telling him what an honor it was to meet a Rider, and inviting him to their respective estates. Eragon like Arya, went to memorize their names and titles knowing full well that in doing so, it would not put Oromis to shame. And though he was growing irritated as time went by, he caught Arya giving him a glance as her conversation with one of the earls came to a pause. He slightly shrugged before turning back to King Orrin and Nasuada. He disliked politics but as a Rider, he had to play his part.

When at last they won free of Orrin's pavilion, Eragon asked Nasuada, "What will you have of me, Nasuada?"

She eyed him with a curious expression. "What do you think? You are apt at politics, a skilled swordsman, and a deadly magician. How do you think you can best serve me, Eragon? You know your own abilities far better than I do." Even Arya watched him now, waiting to hear his response.

It took him only a moment to think of it, "I shall take control of Du Vrangr Gata, as they once asked me to, and organize them underneath me so I can lead them into battle. Working together, we can easily dispatch Galbatorix's magicians."

"That seems an excellent idea."

_Is there a place, _asked Saphira, _where we can leave our bags? I don't want to carry them or this saddle any longer than I have to._

When Eragon repeated her question, Nasuada said, "Of course, you may leave them in my pavilion, and I will arrange to have a tent erected for the both of you, where you can keep them permanently." Returning to the pavilion, Nasuada said to Eragon, "Report to me once you have settled matters with Du Vrangr Gata." The she pushed aside the tent flap and disappeared inside with Elva along with Bard and Desdemona who seemed to be teetering on the edge of indecision before he motioned for them to follow.

Arya turned to him, "You seem irritated."

"That's because I am," he sighed rubbing his face tiredly. "A child cursed to bear the pain of others, an army marching from the Empire to face us, as well as taking lead of an organization that I'm sure will not welcome me. It irritates me slightly."

"A feeling I can connect with," said Arya. "At times, events do seem to become slightly…annoying." He raised a brow not expecting it from her but then again, she must not enjoy having to converse with hot headed humans for the better part of her life. "In any case, you must hurry."

"You will be staying with Nasuada?"

"That is where I am needed, unless you would like me to accompany you." She stared at him waiting for his answer. He shook his head.

"This I am capable of," when Nasuada's voice emanated from inside the pavilion, Eragon gestured towards it. "We are both needed elsewhere, Arya. I shall see you once I resolve the situation with Du Vrangr Gata."

She nodded turning to leave but she faltered as if unsure of herself. Then she turned to him again before kissing him softly on the lips. "Do not let your irritation get the best of you…especially with Trianna." With that she turned and swiftly left leaving Eragon with Saphira and Eridor. He would have to remove their bags then seeing as she was now preoccupied.

His mood slightly better, he turned and began to pick his way through the tents. It was going to be a long day as they prepared for battle. He was sure of it. Ignoring the looks that he received, he sought out the magicians with the use of his mind.

**And this chapter is done! Also, did you all know that my chapters are longer than they used to be? Usually I try to aim for the 3,000 word mark but ever since I've read Inheritance, it's hard to keep it under 4,500 words lately. The motivation I get can simply amaze me. And you know something, when I'm writing this its a different experience when reading it. Because I usually don't remember everything I write and when I read it I always think "Did I really write that? Wow!" lol Just something to share with you all. But I'll see you all again next chapter.**


	41. Chapter 36

**Another rather long chapter that I've had fun writing. But besides that it's so lengthy I want to keep my AN short this time. I just want to say that it will take another two filler chapters before you can all read the Battle of the Burning Plains and Eragon's new (or old) nemesis. And those next two filler chapters are already done and one is rather lengthy. I think around 5,300 words. But I'll upload it soon. Also, I would like to adress the "Rated M" questions I've been getting. This story is rated M for the violence that will byt coming up as well as some lemons (which won't be for a while, sadly). But that is the answer. Anways Happy Reading!**

Before he left Nasuada's pavilion, he'd unbuckled the saddle and bags from both of the dragons, letting his fall to a heap on the ground. While he gently placed Arya's next to his knowing that it would no doubt irritate her if he were to treat her belongings with such crude methods. Before he left his belongings, however, he dug through his bag to pull out the gifts that Islanzadi bestowed him: the quiver and bow. He placed the quiver across his back and he was pleased to find that it could hold the bow the elf queen had sung for him.

Eragon and Saphira had set out together to find Trianna, while Eridor opted to remain behind with Arya, poking his head through the entrance of the pavilion to listen to the on goings. And though Eragon was glad to be of service to the Varden, he felt slightly annoyed at not being able to see his mother. It would have to wait then. They had gone no more than a few paces when he sensed a nearby mind that was shield from his view. That must be one of the magicians. They veered towards it.

Twelve yards from their starting point, they came upon a small green tent with a donkey picketed in front. To the left of the tent, a blackened cauldron hung from a metal tripod placed over one of the malodorous flames birthed deep within the earth. Cords were strung about the cauldron, over which were draped nightshade, hemlock, rhododendron, savin, bark of the yew tree, and numerous mushrooms, such as death cap and spotted cort, all of which Eragon recognized as poisons. And standing next to the cauldron, wielding a long wooden paddle with which she stirred the brew was Angela the herbalist. At her feet sat Solembum.

"Are you planning to poison an army?" asked Eragon as he approached her, curious with what she needed all of the various poisons for.

She lifted her gaze from the cauldron to face him, her expression becoming ghoulish and twisted underneath the flickering green flames, making the smile she wore out of place. "Ah, Eragon, so you've returned!"

"That we have," he said answering for both him and Saphira. He gestured towards her cauldron again. "Are you planning to poison someone?"

"Don't mind this," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I can assure you that you aren't the one I want to poison. But for your half brother…I'm afraid to say that I could club him over the head with a mallard and still want to poison _him._"

He smiled, amused at her response. She was talking about Elva and Murtagh's curse. "I'm sure you just merely bluff, but I'm afraid it would take more than a mallard and poison to kill him now." Angela's expression grew curious.

"And why is that?"

He briefly explained to her about the Agaeti Blodhren, and the more he spoke the more interested her expression grew until he reached the end. "My, it looks like plenty of interesting events have taken place during your stay with the elves. But that's beside the point. Have you met Elva yet? Have you seen what your half brother did to the poor girl?"

"I have."

"You have!" she stopped stirring the mixture that she was experimenting with to stare at him in disbelief. "Then why don't you say anything about it? Your blockhead of a brother has enslaved a child to the pain of the world and yet all you can do is stand there with barely any words?"

Eragon stood there allowing Angela to rant about his informing him in many explicit, detailed, and highly inventive terms, exactly how great a blockhead Murtagh was and that it seemed to flow through their family. If it was any normal person, he would've ripped their heart from their chest before they could get any further insult out of their lips. But ever since he'd first met Angela, he'd gone quite entertained with her eccentric personality. She definitely was unique in her own way.

When she finally paused for breath, he said, "You're quite right, and I'm sure you'll like to hear that once Murtagh arrives he will no doubt remove the spell. And even if he doesn't then I shall do it."

Angela blinked three times, one right after the other, and her mouth remained open for a moment in a small "O" before she clamped it shut. With a glare of suspicion, she asked, "You're not saying that just to placate me, are you?"

"I would never."

"Ah…well, then, that's settled, isn't it?" She flashed him a wide smile and then strode past him to pat Saphira on her jowls. "It's good to see you again, Saphira. You've grown and I must say, your scales seem brighter."

She was flattered by the herbalist's comments. _Well met indeed, Angela._

As Angela returned to stirring her concoction, Eragon said, "That was an impressive tirade you gave."

"Thank you, I worked on it for several weeks, but it seems lacking a little, maybe I should add in an Urgal or two to emphasis my point when I meet Murtagh again." She thought for it for a few moments before nodding. "Yes, I think I will."

"I'm sure it will be as colorful as what you've told me," said Eragon watching as she stirred the brew in the cauldron. "Though Murtagh and I may have changed greatly, you don't look any different."

"Time has no restraint on one if they understand its concept," she said mysteriously before sending him another glance. "Though you seem more relaxed than before. Could it be because of a certain elf?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough."

"That I will." She leaned to the side, grabbed a mug from a bench next to her, and offered it to Eragon. "Here, have a cup of tea."

Eragon glanced at the deadly plants surrounding them and then back at Angela's open face before he accepted the mug. Trusting that she would not poison him, did he drink the tea. It was delicious. At that moment, Solembum padded over to Saphira and began to arch his back and rub himself up against her leg, just as any other cat would. Leaving Saphira to speak with the werecat, he took another drink of the tea.

"So," said Angela, "I assume you already spoke with Nasuada and King Orrin." He nodded. "And what did you think of dear old Orrin?"

Lacking the caution of words, he pondered it for a moment. "He's as eccentric as the next person. But I wouldn't call him a fool."

"Interesting observation," said Angela as she nodded. "You wouldn't call him a fool. But I would call him a moonstruck fool on Midsummer Night Eve."

"He must be crazy to have carted so much glass all the way from Aberon."

Angela raised an eyebrow. "What's this now?"

"Haven't you seen the inside of his tent?"

"Unlike some people," she sniffed. "I don't ingratiate myself with every monarch I meet." So he described it to her. Angela had abandoned her stirring and listened to him with great interest. The instant he was done, she began bustling around the cauldron gathering the deadly plants about them with tongs. "I think I had best pay Orrin a visit. The two of you will have to tell me about your trip to Ellesmera at a later time…Well, go on, both of you. Be gone!"

Eragon shook his head as the short little woman drove him and Saphira away from her tent, and he still holding the cup of tea. She was the most eccentric person he'd ever met and he was sure that she would remain that way for the next decade or so.

From there it took them almost half an hour to locate Trianna's tent, which apparently served as the unofficial headquarters of Du Vrangr Gata. The tent was hidden behind a spur of rock that served to conceal it from the gaze of enemy magicians in Galbatorix's army.

As Eragon and Saphira approached the black tent, the entrance was thrust open and Trianna strode out, her arms bare to the elbow in preparation to use magic. Behind her clustered a group of determined if frightened looking spell casters, many of whom Eragon recognized for he had seen them during the battle in Farthen Dur, either fighting or healing the wounded.

Eragon watched as Trianna and the others reacted with now expected surprise at his altered appearance. Lowering her arms, Trianna said, "Shadeslayer, Saphira. You should have told us sooner that you were here. We've been preparing to confront and battle what we thought was a mighty foe."

"I'm glad you didn't for it would've been disastrous for both of us if not the Varden as well," said Eragon.

"And why have you graced us with your presence now? You never deigned to visit us before, we who are more your brethren than any in the Varden."

"I have come to take command of Du Vrangr Gata." As he expected the news caused many to react in surprise while Trianna stiffened. Knowing that the sorceress was no doubt offended but his sudden act, he strove forward, not wanting to prolong the conflict. "It is not out of criticism in replacing you as leader of Du Vrangr Gata. If events allowed, I would have preferred to leave you amongst yourselves. But with war nigh upon us, there must be someone to lead you all into battle. I may be strong but I cannot always indefinitely be victorious not when I'm occupied in the fighting. It would be foolish for us to face Galbatorix's pet magicians divided. And I don't plan to see our army slaughtered. And I'm sure you don't either, Trianna."

As he spoke he felt several magician probe at his mind causing his previous irritation to spring forward. He would give them a moment to retreat but if they didn't, he would force it upon them. A moment passed, during his training in Ellesmera, he'd practiced mental defense with Arya on a constant basis, the minds of magicians as weak as those in Du Vrangr Gata was not threatening to him at all. Quick as could be, he retaliated by attacking the minds of his attackers, his own as sharp and unforgiving as a dagger, forcing them to retreat behind their own barriers. As he did, Eragon felt the satisfaction of seeing two men and a women flinch and avert their gazes.

"I'm not here to usurp your authority nor do I wish to," Eragon continued as if the attack never happened. "I need to work with Du Vrangr Gata and give you orders as a Rider. Orders that I have to know will be obeyed without question. The chain of command must be established. That said you will retain the greater part of your autonomy. Most times, I'll be too busy to devote my attention to Du Vrangr Gata. Nor do I intend to ignore your counsel, but know this I have no plans in controlling neither you nor your practices. Now, let me ask again, will you lend me your help, for the good of the Varden?"

Trianna paused, then bowed. "Of course, Shadeslayer—for the good of the Varden. It will be an honor to have you lead Du Vrangr Gata."

"Then let us begin."

Over the next few hours, Eragon talked with every one of the assembled magicians, although a fair number were absent, seeing that they were busy with one task or another to help the Varden. And from the time he spent getting acquainting to them did he learn of their inexperience. Most of them didn't know the ancient language to speak it fluently and they were ignorant of numerous applications of gramarye. Compared to his own servants, Bard, Desdemona, and Rosalie, who were all apt magicians, the members of Du Vrangr Gata with the exceptions of a few and Trianna could barely be called magicians. It wasn't much to work with but he had to make the most of it. A bit more than a third of the magicians specialized in healing. After teaching them a few more spells and enchantments to memorize, he sent them on their way to learn them. The remaining magicians, he'd established a chain of command. He at the head, and Trianna as his lieutenant. It took quite longer to get the rest of the magicians to cooperate with one another, which added to his irritation again.

When he felt that he had tested each and every magician present thoroughly did he finally leave, but not before extracting a promise from Du Vrangr Gata that they would be ready and willing when he called upon them for assistance. Returning to Nasuada's pavilion, he wasn't surprised to find everyone standing around the table discussing strategy and tactics. She glanced up when he entered. "You've sorted out the problem with Du Vrangr Gata?"

He nodded. "I apologize for it taking longer than I'd expected. There were some complications."

She smiled at his response as if knowing what he spoke of. "I see, but I'm pleased to see your resolution. This will no doubt come out in our advantage."

He glanced at the maps and scrolls, "Have you been discussing strategy?"

"More or less, but without certainties, we can only speculate what will happen in this upcoming battle." Her expression was grim as her eyes returned to the maps. "We need to rally the army together and have everyone prepared. The only problem is trying to find a commander to lead them. I would have you as commander of the army, Eragon but it's too risky."

"King Orrin will want to have a say in this." Arya murmured, her brows furrowed. "He will not relinquish his command as easily."

"Yes, there's also that to contend with." Nasuada sighed. "Tomorrow we will assemble with him to speak of it more. But we've discussed at length for today and it would be counterproductive to tire ourselves needlessly before the battle."

Eragon nodded, and bowed slightly, "By your leave, my lady."

"You are dismissed." They left the pavilion one after the other. Once outside did he turn to his servants. They looked much better than when they served him in Uru'baen.

"The sun seems to be doing the two of you some good," he commented.

"That it has my lord," Desdemona agreed as she slightly smiled at him. "You look well."

"I am," his eyes caught Bard patting Saphira on her snout and warmly welcoming her back to the Varden. "I trust that you've been well since I've left?"

"More or less."

Saphira let out a yelp and they turned to her as she tried to evade Bard. _Stop that, it tickles! _Eragon fought to retain a smile at the game they were playing. As always, his cook was fearless in trying to tickle Saphira. "Much have happened since you've left." Her violet eyes flickered to Arya and back. Eragon nodded.

"I would like to see my mother, Desdemona," said Eragon finally getting to the heart of the matter. "Can you lead me to her?"

She hesitated, an expression of uncertainty crossing her expression. "Of course, this way." She turned to lead them through the rows of tents and to his surprise, Arya followed. He'd half expected her to retire to her tent. Following them was the dragons and Bard who amiably told them of the on goings of the Varden since they'd left for Ellesmera. It took them half an hour to reach the tent which was situated in south eastern corner of the Varden. It was a large tent fit for eight but he was sure that it was his servants own doings to give his mother some comfort. As they approached, Finny who was lighting a fire to cook what looked like a chicken, glanced up in surprise.

"Lord Eragon!" he cried. "You've returned!"

"It is good to see you, Finny." Eragon greeted the young boy. "Is my mother here?"

"Yes, she's inside with—"

The flap to the tent was pushed aside and out walked his mother with the assistance of Rosalie. She looked the same as when he'd first met her. She skin was pale and beautiful and her fiery hair caught in the light of the fire, her emerald eyes piercing. She smiled at him, showing her beauty. But it was his mother who made him froze on the spot. She wasn't dressed in her leather armor but instead a dress made from rather fine lace. Her brunette hair cascaded down her back instead of being tied up and her gait was uneven as she walked. And that was because of the extra weight she'd gained. Her stomach was round and large, and she hand one hand on her back as she walked to support the weight. Her cheeks were rosy giving her a youthful appearance and she looked truly happy.

He stared at her at a loss for words. Even Saphira emanated surprise at the sight of his mother. "Mother—?" he trailed off unable to continue not knowing what to say as he took in her appearance. She was pregnant and it wasn't just recently either. He felt a pang in his heart, this child would be his younger sibling…

His mother's expression stretched into a wide smile. With the help of Rosalie she made her way over to him. "Eragon!" when she was close enough, she embraced him. When he returned it, he was careful not to hug her too tight. It warmed him, however that she could still recognize him. Her son. Pulling away, she smiled up at him. "I didn't think you would return so quickly."

For a moment nothing came to mind and he was unable to think of what to say to his mother. Never had he ever thought of this being a possible situation. She was with child…After a long pause, Saphira nudged him. _Eragon, don't just stand there like a fool. Say something!_

All around him, he could see the anxiety in his servant's faces as they waited for his response. Was this the moment that he had been longing for? That both he and his mother waited for? The moment in which they could forgive and move forward or resent and remain the way they were. Eragon closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. A migraine was fighting its way forth, throbbing in his mind. After a moment he opened his eyes again, "I'm happy to see you so well mother," he finally said after some struggle.

"Being away from the Empire has done me a great deal," she rubbed her back as if it ached. Rosalie sent him a look that said that she'd done all she could to ease his mother's pain.

"That it did," he glanced around for something to say. As he stood there and thought, it was Saphira who filled the silence; she walked forward to sniff the air around his mother before lightly licking her cheek with her tongue.

_I believe congratulations are in order, mother-of-my-rider, _she said as she studied his mother. _May you birth a beautiful child._

"Thank you, Saphira," his mother glanced towards him as if unsure she should accept the congratulations.

Trying to find a way to ease the tension, Eragon softly snorted. "I'm sure that the child will be less bothersome than Murtagh and I."

_I wouldn't think so, your blood seems to have a way of being intertwined with fate, _said Saphira amused. _A sibling born to elder brothers who are Dragon Riders, a father who founded the Varden, and a mother who is as fierce as she is gentle. This child will have quite the inheritance._

That was right, whether his mother gave birth to a boy or a girl, there was no doubt in his mind that his younger sibling will be revered above all others. As they stood there, Arya had a thoughtful expression on her face. She didn't, however, make a comment until his mother caught sight of her. "Arya, it seems you too have returned."

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Selena," Arya said politely. "You have improved since last we've met."

"Thank you," she made an apologetic face. "If you're here to search for Brom, I'm afraid that he's currently occupied training the warriors."

At the sound of his father's name, he instinctively stiffened something that didn't go unnoticed by anyone. Finny who caught the tension in the air, turned to Bard, "It's almost time for Lady Selena to dine, let's prepare supper, Bard."

"Err—right," the blond haired man agreed the two of them hurrying off to gather the food. His mother was glancing at him with an odd expression while Rosalie bit her lip as if deciding what to do and Desdemona stood still as a statue ready to intervene if necessary. Arya, however, remained tactfully silent.

Then it was if something in his mother had snapped. She let out a growl of frustration before, placing her hands on her hips to stare at him even though she was shorter than him. "Eragon Shadeslayer, I've enough of your attitude young man! We've come this far and it's high time we start acting like a family. I know it's my fault that things are this way, and I can't make it up you." Her expression became saddened. "I just want to see you happy. You and Murtagh."

That was it. It was now or never if he wanted to make his mother truly happy. "I never blamed you," murmured Eragon, causing everyone to seemingly freeze. His eyes found Arya, the emerald of her irises giving him the courage he needed. _Bitterness is a choice. _That was right. "Never. I've always thought it was my own fault that you couldn't be with the man you loved and with Murtagh. That I was a burden to you. Someone who sought the openness of the sky. You stayed for me in that wretched city. You'd tried your best for me against the twisted lives we lived in under Galbatorix. And I couldn't do anything for you. Nothing made you happy anymore." He glanced downward as if ashamed to say so. "I was ashamed of myself. I couldn't face you anymore. I couldn't be the child that you wanted."

_Eragon…_He felt Saphira's warmth cascade over his mind. Trying to ease the guilt and shame that he'd been living with for so long. "Just like your father," he turned his head to her to find her staring at him with a film of tears in her eyes. "Exactly like your father. You were always stubborn and unforgiving to a fault, always trying to find happiness for others. But not for yourself. I've always loved you, you're my son as much as Murtagh is. No matter how you look or who you are, a Rider or Shadeslayer. Do not forget that I will always love you." She smiled, wiping her eyes. "Now, are we done with all of this foolishness?"

He nodded, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him. _Go on! _Saphira urged pushing him forward abruptly. _Your mother is waiting for you, Eragon. She's been waiting for over five years now._

He stepped forward to grasp his mother's hands, noting the light wrinkles she was beginning to have. "Yes, let's move past what's done and continue forward, mother." Her nod was the response he wanted. He glanced at her stomach before turning to Arya. A small smile was on her face as she beheld their long awaited reunion. He beckoned towards her. She gave him a curious expression before moving forward. "There is also something I would like to tell you, mother."

His mother and Rosalie watched them with a curious expression while Desdemona glided off to arrange supper. Gripping Arya's hand as she came to a stop before them, he said, "Arya and I have become mates." There reaction was what he'd expected. For some reason, no one could imagine the two of them as a bonded pair.

_It seems like today has been a rather emotional day for everyone, _Saphira's commented as he was forced to sit and explain to his mother what had occurred since he'd left for Ellesmera with Arya beside him. Soon enough, the rest of his servants came back, Bard and Finny carrying a cow for the dragons who were pleasantly surprised. Arya pointedly looked the other way as their teeth ripped apart the cow before they devoured it. Desdemona bought back food for his mother and Rosalie, he watched as they ate. Before they'd lived in wealth and dined with gold but now despite their condition, they were much happier than before.

They ate together and his mother despite her condition, seemed up to the conversation. She'd asked a variety of subjects, from his trip to how Murtagh was. At times Eragon would answer or Saphira would. And sometimes, it was Arya who sustained their conversation as if it was a common occurrence.

Eventually his father returned to the camp which sent everyone into silence. His mother waved him over. "Don't just stand there Brom, come and have some dinner with us, I'm sure you're starving."

As she'd asked, he slowly made his way forward before taking a seat on the low wooden bench that his mother sat on that Bard had made for her. His father sat across from him and Eragon could see the shock in his eyes as he took in his altered appearance. For the longest time no one said anything before Arya spoke, "It is good to see you again, Brom."

"Aye, you as well, Arya." His father replied. Eragon took another bite out of the pear that he was eating, the fruit crunching in his mouth sounding louder than normal. Seeing his mother's rather strained but hopeful expression made him determined. If Arya could forgive her mother after seven decades why couldn't he forgive his father?

_Because you're too stubborn to, _Saphira answered for him. He ignored her and reached out to the warm pot of soup that rested on the wooden table between them before pouring a bowl full of the hot liquid. And instead of eating it himself, he held it out to his father. "I'm sure you're hungry…father." It came out stiff and hesitant, but he'd said it all the same. He wasn't going to forgive him that easily yet. But he was going to try and forgive him.

Brom's eyes seemed to shine brightly as he accepted the bowl, before dutifully eating. The smile his mother bestowed upon him was the happiest he'd ever seen her. A hand gripped his and he turned to Arya, though she was speaking to Bard, he could see how the corners of her mouth was curved upward. It was enough. He turned back to his mother and father, watching as they ate and responding to their questions and inquiries.

Deep down in his heart, he felt a burden slowly fade away. It would take quite a while before he could stare at his father in the eye without resentment. But he didn't mind for it was enough.

**I know what you're all thinking. That's the only interaction Eragon has with Brom? Well, I've written the last part multiple ways and none of them seem to stick. And it's mainly because of Eragon and Arya that it didn't work out well with him resenting his father. I've developed AxE so Eragon could see past Brom's mistake like how Arya had forgiven her mother after seven decades. And so this was the best road for Eragon and his relationship with his parents to go. But this won't be the last of it. Trust me! It will take a LONG time for his to actually accept Brom. So goodbye for now! And by the way, Christmas is around the block!**


	42. Chapter 37

**It's Christmas Eve and I've decided to give you all the gift of this extremely long chapter. I'm planning on uploading the other one tomorrow but you all might be too busy with parties and family obligations to actually read it. I know I will be busy at my family party and I shall watch out for alcohol consumption. Not going to sprain my hand again anytime soon. Anyways, Happy Reading everyone!**

The following two weeks since they'd arrived at the Burning Plains were weeks of preparation. Nasuada, after a tiresome conference with King Orrin and his council at early dawn, had decided to keep the Varden at the Burning Plains for she didn't want to march and be caught unaware by the Empire's soldiers. And as it had turned out, his prediction was exact for one of the spies in Orrin's intelligence network had reported that he saw a mass of troops marching south of Uru'baen and towards Surda. And afterwards it was one discussion after the other with the king and Nasuada. He didn't mind partaking in the strategy sessions, it was just the time they'd arranged them that irked him. Early dawn he found himself being awakened to attend them. And ever since, sleep was the farthest thing from his schedule.

The first time that Bard had woken him for the first meeting, he had broken his hand in his annoyance and anger at being awakened so early. From then on, Arya came to fetch him from his sleep. Though there were times that she was considerate about his sleep, there were others when she would inconsiderately prod him awake with either her foot or her sword. Like today, wrapped in his deep sleep, he frowned when he felt a prod against his stomach. He muttered something unintelligible but ignored it. When he thought he'd imagined it, another prod rudely kept him from sleeping, this time accompanied by an exasperated voice, "Eragon we must meet with Nasuada and King Orrin."

He didn't budge but burrowed deeper into his cot. Curse his servants for putting Arya up to the task. If it was Bard or Finny, he would've thrown them out before they could've spoken. A sound half between a sigh and scoff met his ears. A moment later, a hand gripped his blankets and pulled it roughly off of him. Once the cold air hit his skin, he bit out a loud curse glancing up to find Arya standing over him with an exasperated expression. "Must we do this everyday?"

He narrowed his eyes and glared at her, but as he thought, it didn't have any effect. Usually at this point he would give up and get ready but today, he rolled around and went back to sleep. Blanket or no blanket. "Eragon!" he heard her drop his blankets and reached out to grab them before wrapping them about him to continue sleeping again.

A few seconds later, he felt her hand on his back, "Now is not the time to dream, Eragon." He grumbled and tried to return to sleep. That was when he felt a trickle of mischief coming from Saphira's mind which was quiet until now. Before he could think more of it, Arya's elegant fingers found a spot below his neck and gently pinched him there. But it was enough, a jolt exploding through his body; he let out a yelp and flinched away from her hand.

Outside, he could hear the rumble of Saphira's laughter as she no doubt heard his surprise. Now fully awake, he sat up still wrapped in his blankets and raised a brow at Arya, not bothering to hide his annoyance and irritation at being awaken so early and rudely. Her expression was one of amusement. "Good morning."

He grunted. It was too early to be polite. Trying for one last ditch effort at sleep, he was about to lie down and drift off again when Arya's fingers pinched the spot below his neck again. Flinching like he did the first time, he stood up wide awake. "Good morning to you too, Arya." He grumbled as she stood there watching him.

"It's a good thing Saphira knows how to get you up or we would've been here all day," said Arya as he bustled about his tent. He grunted in reply again. She sank down onto his cot, crossing her legs as she observed him. "At least try for some coherency in the morning, Eragon."

Splashing his face with water from a basin, he grunted again and wiped his face dry. "You're up bright and early as usual," he commented as he threw off his night shirt and pulled an emerald tunic over his head. He never understood how she did it, every morning she was up before the crack of dawn preparing and studying while he was trying to sleep peacefully.

She shrugged, "Another habit of mine," was her answer to his disgruntled statement.

"Well, I wouldn't like it to be a habit of _mine_," he muttered under his breath earning a smile of amusement from Arya. _And no thanks to you that I'm awake, Saphira, _he said, directing his thoughts towards her.

Her own thoughts were filled with amusement and she was far from guilty, _someone has to get you up and since you weren't responding, I thought Arya might like to know how to keep you from sleeping the day away._

_I love you too,_ he thought sarcastically.

_Oh hush; you enjoy waking up to your elf in the morning don't you? _To that he didn't respond which caused Saphira's thoughts to become tinted with knowing. As he moved about his tent to warm a pot of tea to wake his mind, Arya neatly folded his blankets up before turning to him. "You do seem tired as of late."

"It's quite difficult to teach magic to those who view it with superstitions and Trianna constantly by my side," Eragon said as he heated the clay kettle on the table. Once it was boiling he poured himself a cup of tea. "Would you like some, Arya?"

"If you don't mind."

He poured her a cup and handed it to her, before taking a seat on a three legged stool in his tent. The warm tea was enough to clear the fuzziness from his mind and set his thoughts in order. "Have you been making way with them?" Arya asked after a sip of her own tea.

"Progression has been slow, but progress is still progress," he said despite his distaste at the thought of it. For the past two weeks, every evening he would spend a ridiculous amount of hours with Du Vrangr Gata and yet the magicians were still struggling to cast a few spells that he thought to be simple. But then again, his power couldn't be compared to theirs. Not in the slightest.

Arya pursed her lips and it looked like she wanted to ask more but she refrained from doing so. Instead she drank the rest of her tea as he downed his own. Placing the cup on the table, he reached forward to grab his boots and tug it on his feet, lacing them up as he did so. "Would you mind if I accompany you to help with Du Vrangr Gata?"

Surprised he stared at Arya. "Are you not needed for planning with Orrin and Nasuada?"

She shook her head, "Not today, Brom will be there to advise her in strategy."

He thought about it for a moment before nodded, "It will be a nice help," he admitted. "Rosalie and the others are too busy preparing the army to assist me like they usually do. And you're very knowledgeable in the ancient language." He took her cup that was empty and placed it on the table next to his. "Not to mention with you there, I wouldn't get nearly as irritated as I do every time I'm teaching them."

"Then it's settled."

Eragon nodded, as he reached back down to finish lacing his boots. Satisfied, he glanced up to find Arya smiling slightly at him. What was that for? When she didn't elaborate he ignored it and instead decided to take the time to see her fully. For the past two weeks, they'd each been so busy that they couldn't spare more than a few brief moments with each other to exchange chaste kisses and caresses. But today would be different no doubt. They would spend the day together even if it was to teach the magicians in Du Vrangr Gata.

Feeling a strong desire wash over him, he stood and made his way over to her. Without giving her time to fully grasp what he was going to do, he bent down to kiss her. As his lips moved over hers, he felt one of her hands come up to cup his cheek. When her lips parted and her warm breath washed over his face, he felt his desire increase by ten folds, strengthened by their time apart these past weeks. As their tongues brushed, it was a dance for domination. Intoxicated by her fragrance and taste, he continued his onslaught, never before as passionate as he was in this interaction. When he felt his back ache from his bent position he made to pull away but Arya had a different idea and instead pulled him down as they went sprawling out on his cot.

Trying not to crush her with his weight, he used his elbows to keep most of his body off of her as they continued in their fevered kissing. It seemed that she desired it as much as he did. After a moment he pulled away from her with a great amount of difficulty. Allowing for the two of them to catch their breaths. Or for Arya to catch her breath instead, he brought his lips to her jaw line and placed a kiss there, earning a startled gasp from her. It was a sound he had never heard from her which made him pause but when she didn't object to his actions, he continued. Letting his instinct and desire lead him, Eragon slowly trailed his lips from the bottom of her jaw upwards before moving to the soft skin of her neck.

Never had he done anything such as this but it felt natural to him. As his lips trailed up her slender neck, he stopped right below her ear and lightly kissed her there. Before he could do anymore a loud clamor outside as well as harsh shouting made him pause, giving them time to clear their minds. It was a group of warriors that were hurriedly trying to make their way to the training grounds but in their haste one man dropped his shield on another's foot. He closed his eyes trying not to get frustrated before opening them to stare back down at Arya.

Her hair was spade out on his cot, her eyes a dark emerald, and her lips a rosy red. She was staring up at him with an expression that he wasn't used to seeing on her, but he knew what it was. It was of desire. Eragon bent down to give her another kiss, this time chase before sighing. "It's time we meet Nasuada and Orrin for this meeting of theirs."

Eragon stood as Arya moved into a sitting position of his cot, straightening her hair as she did so. "Yes, it would be foolish to keep them waiting any longer than necessary." In one fluid motion, she stood and exited his tent though albeit reluctantly. Strapping his swords onto his hip and slinging his bow and quiver over his back, he followed her.

Outside, Saphira and Eridor waited their heads close together. One gently nudging the other. Arya stood right outside his tent, her arms folded as if she'd stood there longer than necessary. At his appearance, Saphira turned her head to him. _I see that you're finally ready to leave._

_I wouldn't say that, but we must do what we must, _then to Arya he said, "Let us be off, King Orrin must be grating on Nasuada's nerve by now." She nodded, the four of them setting off through the encampment of the Varden's. Eragon's tent was located on the south western end of the camp, farthest from the main body of the camp itself. For his ears could not withstand the loud noises that accompanied everyday life at the Varden's main body and he just didn't want to interact with others. Arya's tent was erected not far from his but she too preferred the peace and quiet compared to the loud noises of the Varden's main body.

As they walked, Eragon pointedly ignored the stares that they'd managed to attract. Despite the fact that he had returned to the Varden for over two weeks, most of the people seem treat him as if he'd just returned. Within twenty minutes they reached the red pavilion where Nasuada's command tent stood. Once granted entry, they entered the large command tent to find Nasuada seated in her grand chair with King Orrin and his council seated before her around a long table as well as the Council of Elders and Jormundur. And though he could not see her, he could feel Elva's presence within the pavilion. The only seats open were two seats to her right which she'd reserved for the two of them no doubt.

"Eragon, Arya, thank you for joining us," said Nasuada as she caught sight of the two of them. "Why don't the two of you take a seat?" They did with Eragon at her right and Arya to his left. "We were just wondering when you two would arrive."

"I apologize if my tardy has caused you any discomfort," said Eragon. The dark skinned leader merely waved away his apology.

"It is alright, the both of you are here," she stared at the documents before her. "Now, let us plan for the battle ahead." She pulled a scroll towards her to quickly glance over its contents before turning to them. "Reports have confirmed that the Empire will be arriving to Surda within two days notice and from his words, I can gleam that we are heavily outnumbered." No one spoke as she dropped the documents onto the table. "But it isn't news, for it is something we've already predicted."

"Then pray tell, how is it that we will overcome this difference in numbers?" Irwin, Orrin's prime minister spoke addressing Nasuada directly and Eragon would even go as far as to say, questioningly.

"Once the dwarves arrive to our aid and if Murtagh could somehow hear word of our condition then it would be an even battle," said Nasuada, calmly. "But if none of that goes according to plan, we still have Eragon and Arya as well as the dragons; they alone can kill more men than a battalion could."

"I cause no offense in saying so, Nasuada," said King Orrin his eyes flickering over to Eragon. "But how confident are you in their abilities?"

Nasuada didn't answer but instead gazed at Eragon, giving him the chance to do so. He briefly held her gaze before turning his head to hold Orrin's. "Numbers do not determine the chances of winning, your majesty. If that were so than the Varden as an organization had no hope to begin with. It is talent and skill that shapes the game, and the person endowed with these talents will always be victorious."

"We may be overwhelmed but we are strong enough to withhold the tides of this battle," said Arya, her rich voice washing over everyone. "That I am confident of."

The King didn't press the matter and from then onward, the rest of the meeting went without questioning. And though he tried not to show frustration at being seated around a table with those whom he disliked, especially the council of elders, it was for Nasuada that he remained composed. She needed him as a vassal and in him was the root of her bond with King Orrin and the others. And from him, she had to draw her authority, especially with those who fought to control her.

When early morning came, the people of the Varden finally rising to work did they adjourn the meeting. Freed from the pavilion, he made to leave like the rest before Nasuada called for him to stay. Arya gave him a look before leaving. "Yes, my lady?"

"Before you leave, I just wanted to tell you that I have your armor ready for you."

Her statement puzzled him. "Armor? I already have my armor; it is sitting in my bags in my tent."

She shook her head. "That armor belongs to Grabranth; ever since you'd joined the Varden I've thought it fit to see to it that you have new armor that does not represent Grabranth but instead Eragon. King Hrothgar has kindly offered to see to it that you will have the finest there is since Saphira promised to repair the Star Sapphire."

He was unsure of what to say but bowed to her in his gratitude.

"I'll have it sent to your tent," Nasuada said as she began to unroll maps across her desk. "Until tomorrow, Eragon."

He nodded and exited the tent to find Arya standing outside, the dragons no where to be seen. When he'd asked, she'd just simply said, "Flying." She inclined her head towards the tent. "What is it that Nasuada wanted to see you for?"

"She wanted to tell me about the new armor that she had crafted for me," this brought a smile to her face. "What?" He asked, suspicious of her expression.

"I also have something to give you," was her only reply. He raised a brow but didn't push the subject with her any further. Before they could set off, the sound of boots on the ground made Eragon turned and he found himself face to face with his father. Instinctively, he stiffened. Though he had remained on civil footing with his father, he couldn't bring himself to act like a son to him. Nor did his father push it. It was as if there was a mutual agreement between the two of them to let things move at its own accord. As he stared at Brom, he felt an emotion rise in his chest at the thought of him about to have another child with his mother.

Eragon greeted him, stiffly, "Father."

"Eragon," Brom inclined his head towards Arya. Since he'd found out that he and Arya were mates, his father's reaction was astonishment and Eragon knew that it was partly from the fact that Arya could be as old as his father was. But he paid that no mind in the least. And if he was bothered by Eragon's relationship to the elf, Brom certainly did not show it. "Arya, good morning. You've finished with your meeting with Nasuada?"

"Yes, she is waiting for your appearance to plan more strategies for the battle," answered Arya. "We were leaving for Du Vrangr Gata."

"Ah," understanding lit his features; though he seemed reluctant to leave he made a small step towards the tent. "You have your obligations as I have mine. Let's see to it that they are carried out." He turned to leave then stopped and faced Eragon. "If you could stop by our tent later on, Eragon, it will be greatly appreciated. Your mother wants to spend some time with you."

With that he left, disappearing into the tent. Eragon stood there staring at his father's back for a moment before with a light tug of his hand by Arya began to make his way through the tents and to Du Vrangr Gata. As they walked with their hands intertwined in an intimate gesture, Arya spoke, "You're trying very hard to forgive him, aren't you?"

"I am," he admitted. "It's just so hard. And every time I compare it to what you've had to endure, I feel like a child for begrudging my father for a mistake on his part."

"You were young at the time."

He snorted, "You as well, or at least for an elf."

"I was," she didn't seem inclined to speak of the subject anymore as he wasn't. Glad for her tact, the two of them walked through the camp in a comfortable silence often pointing objects of interest out here and there.

As they passed by tents and fires, he would often catch sight of families and friends getting ready to work for the day. A curious thought struck him. "Arya?"

"Yes?"

"Do you dislike wearing dresses?" His question must have been so out of place and odd to her, for she paused in her step for a moment to give him a look. He elaborated. "I know that leggings and leather is useful to wear in battle but I've never seen you wear a dress before not even for a celebration. Is there a particular reason why?"

Her expression which was originally colored with a hint of disbelief at his question slowly changed to amusement before entering outright humor. His question must have really been humorous for he'd never seen her in such high spirits. "An odd question to ask of me," she said. "But if you desire an answer, then I'll try my best to explain to you. I've never seen the beauty in a dress like the women of other races do. If I look fine in leggings and leather then why wear a dress? In any case, this is not the time and place to do so anyway."

It was an answer that made perfect sense, Eragon thought. "Now, shall we continue on our way?" Arya asked, he nodded in response. With that said they continued weaving through the tents to Du Vrangr Gata. On the short walk there, he found other questions to ask her about herself and her preference. It had gotten to the point that they were so odd that Arya laughed at him. "Is today an interrogation on my behalf?"

He smiled sheepishly not understanding why his sudden interest in her, but he could guess that it was from their bonds as mates that made him curious to know her more so than before. "I was just…curious."

They stopped before the tent that was used to hold the meetings for Du Vrangr Gata. Eragon pushed the flap aside, entering with Arya behind him. Already there and practicing their spells and enchantments were the magicians. Trianna at the head of the group glanced up at their arrival, "Shadeslayer, we were—" she paused catching sight of Arya for the first time. "May I ask as to why the elven ambassador is here?"

"To assist in training you all," Eragon said as he moved forward, Arya stepping with him. The expressions on their faces was of intimidation and apprehensive. And Eragon had to agree, Arya sometimes held that aura about her. "It would greatly speed our progress for we are limited on time." He gestured to a group of magicians that were apt at healing. "You can assist them, Arya. I will be with Trianna."

She nodded and without another word strode over to the group. The awe on their face made him smile slightly. Then he turned to the sorceress, "Let us begin, Trianna."

With that said, they set off. While Eragon was teaching a smaller group of the magicians new words and spells in the ancient language, Arya was trying to broaden their knowledge on the art of healing. Occasionally, he would glance her way to see her on the verge of irritation or aptly teaching them how to heal a broken muscle or internal wound.

At one lapse in his own teaching, he found himself staring at the gold bracelet around her wrist shaped like a hissing snake. It was called Lorga, Eragon recalled for his brief conversation with Trianna so long ago. "Your protectorate," Eragon began facing the sorceress. "Is it a spirit that you summon and control?"

She seemed caught off guard by his question but nodded. "He is," her blue eyes stared at him questioningly. "Is there something that interests you?"

"Quite much," he pointed at the golden bracelet. "How is it that you can summon spirits and control them? Have they not been rebellious?"

"Only when you attempt to summon one far stronger than you in mind and magic," she said lifting her wrist so he could get a better look at the bracelet. "Often times, they'll acknowledge you as the one who'd summoned them. Other times, they may as well want to devour your soul from your body."

He nodded, was the spirit sharing his body the same as the one wounded around Trianna's wrist? "Could you try awakening him? I would like to see it."

She thought about it for a moment before bending forward to lightly blow on the golden bracelet, and then she murmured, "Se orum—"

Before any other word could leave her lips, he felt his right eye sting as if smarting from something in the air and his heart pound in his chest. Reaching up to place a hand on his chest, he hunched forward slightly, feeling rather sick. When the third word left her lips, his heart gave another pound as if ready to burst forward from his chest. _Was the spirit waking to her call? _He felt his knees grow weak as another word left her lips. Halfway through the incantation he fell to one knee, grasping at his chest while his right eye burned, blinding him. "Shadeslayer!"

Cool hands grasped his head and he found himself staring at Trianna in a daze, his eyes seeing her but his mind not registering her appearance. She said something but he didn't hear her. Half a minute passed before someone roughly cast the sorceress aside taking her place before him. It was Arya; though her eyes showed a hint of anger her expression was one of concern. He stared at her relieved to see her before him. As long as she was with him, nothing endangering would happen.

He closed his eyes, letting his head fall in her hands as he let his heart slow down and the pain in his right eye subside. After a moment, he opened them again and with Arya's help stood. The members of Du Vrangr Gata were staring at him with looks of confusion and some with doubt. It was Arya who spoke to them, however. "I believe we've practiced enough. You all have your spells and words to learn. Practice them."

"You have no say over what we do, elf," it was Trianna who spoke, anger also evident in her blue eyes but otherwise, her expression remained calm and complacent.

Arya turned to her, her angled eyes narrowed giving her an evil look but she spoke in a civil tone as if discussing the weather with a stranger. "If you know what's best for you sorceress then do not pick a battle in which you will not win." A tense silence hung over them before Arya led him outside. He followed suddenly too tired to complain.

Letting his feet move of their own accord, he was surprised to find himself sitting on a rock next to a lone tree that the Varden had yet to cut down for firewood. Arya knelt before him, examining his right eye with such intensity he was sure that if he were to poke her she would jump from fright. He slowly blinked as if not to surprise her, "How are you feeling?" Arya asked, switching to the ancient language.

"Better," he replied in kind. "It has passed."

The intensity of her gaze didn't diminish, "What was it that you were doing with Trianna?"

Her emerald eyes were piercing as she awaited his answer. "I asked her to summon the spirit of Lorga, the snake on her wrist…I didn't think it would trigger…the one residing in my body. It was a foolish mistake on my part."

"You are fine now?"

He nodded. Her emerald eyes held his for a gaze longer before the tension in her body relaxed her concerned expression melting away. Arya leaned forward until their foreheads were touching, her breath warm on his face. "Do not attempt something as foolish as that next time, Eragon. Especially not with Trianna."

"Do you not like her?"

"Not quite, though she is talented when it comes to summoning spirits even if I've only heard of it once." Arya pulled away from him, standing as she did so while he nodded taking in that bit of news. The day, to his surprise, had grown late. He stood, taking in a deep breath of air before letting it out.

"I shall go visit my mother," he glanced at her. "Will you accompany me?"

She shook her head, "I must prepare a report for Queen Islanzadi." At the sound of her mother's name, her lips thinned. Eragon frowned, that didn't bode well he was sure. "There are matters that I have to tell her before the battle and before the twelve spell casters that she'd assigned to Murtagh arrive."

"I can forgo my dinner with my mother if you'd rather I accompany you, my mother shall not mind in the slightest," said Eragon.

She shook her head, denying his offer. "No, it would be best if I did it. At any rate, I cannot contact her by scrying until she leaves the protection of the forest."

Arya left him with a sweet kiss, walking in the direction of her tent. He stared at her disappearing figure for a moment before turning towards the direction of his mother's own tent. Once he was there, he wasn't surprised to find his mother seated by the fire as Rosalie hovered about her and Bard prepared dinner. Finny and Desdemona were busy trying to arrange the table for them to eat.

At the sight of him, his mother sent him a tired smiled. "Eragon, you came."

"Of course," he replied as he came to stand beside her. "Are you tired mother? You don't seem well today."

"I've forgotten how hard it was on the body to carry child, especially at my age."

"You're not so old as you say you are, Lady Selena," said Rosalie with a slight smile.

"That could be true in certain aspects," she agreed. Then she glanced about him, seemingly searching for something. After a moment, she turned her gaze to him. "Where is Arya? I'd thought she would be accompanying you."

At the sound of her name, his servants seem to become more clumsy and in other cases, stiff. Rosalie and Desdemona did not seem to approve of Arya which had greatly surprised him for he didn't know why. He'd thought all of his servants agreeable of her being his mate. "She is busy at the moment." He sat down on a stool that Finny had brought out for him.

The rest of the day passed without event. Though he did enjoy speaking with his mother and servants, the thought was Queen Islanzadi hovered over his thoughts like a sword, threatening to shatter the peace that he shared with Arya. She was no doubt going to give her consent on their union. And he feared that Arya's relationship with her mother would become more estranged after their long awaited reunion.

The following days sent the Varden into such a state; he'd forgotten to bring up Arya's mother in their time together. As they'd expected the Empire's army did arrive two days later bringing with it, a hundred thousand soldiers by Saphira's and Eridor's accounts as they flew high above the army. Whenever they were together, they were either needed by Nasuada, commanders, King Orrin, or the Du Vrangr Gata. It made speaking of personal topics close to impossible.

It would have to wait, Eragon thought for war was nigh upon them and pleasantries had to be put to side. But when he had the chance, he was going to speak to her about it. He stared up at the sky with a frown as he stood beside Saphira.

_The clouds of war are gathering, _she said as she too studied the sky.

_Aye that they are._

**Long chapter wasn't it? You guys can't even fathom how long it took me to type this up. But anyways, I'm just happy that it's done and Christmas is around the corner! Merry Christmas everyone (even if it is a few hours early but who's counting?)**


	43. Chapter 38

**Merry Christmas everyone! I know it's late but I thought most of you would be busy during the day to read this exceptionally long chapter so I thought I would upload it at night. I hope you've all had a jolly christmas, I know I have :) (I don't think Christmas exists in Alagaesia does it?) Anyways, this is my Christmas gift to you all! The battle will be the next chapter!**

Since the third day of the Empire's arrival, everyone waited on edge. Eragon frowned as he tried to straighten his bare steel gauntlet on his arms. The new armor that Nasuada had sent him was beyond his expectations. Made of bare steel and lined with gold it was the finest and strongest armor that he'd laid his eyes on. And he was grateful for the dwarves' handiwork. Unable to fix it, he cursed under his breath. "Good morning to you as well."

Arya had pulled back he flap to his tent and instead of the leather clothing that she'd usually preferred, she was armored as a man for battle. "You seem to have a knack for catching me in my worst of moods."

"You're just…outspoken early in the morning," she said as she approached him, carrying something obscured in a bag. She set it on his table before reaching out to fix his gauntlet with ease. Once done, she tapped the steel of his armor. "You're armor is beautiful."

"I agree, I am in King Hrothgar's debt." Then he frowned, "Though I wasn't given a helm."

She smiled and reached forward towards her bag, pulling out a beautifully crafted helm, which as his armor was lined with gold. "Which is why I am here. Rhunon had crafted you a helm per my request. Your old helm resembles too much of a monster to be seen within the Varden."

He accepted it, turning it in his hands. It truly was a beautiful object, he thought as he stared at it. Every line, every indenture was elegantly carved and welded. He remembered how Rhunon broke his fingers with her hammer the first time he'd met her. When Arya asked for the source of his amusement, she too saw the humor in it. "I was going to warn you not to touch her work…but I thought against it."

"And why was that? She broke my fingers," asked Eragon.

"I thought you could fend for yourself."

Her answer made him raise an eyebrow at her but he let the subject drop. Instead, he donned his helm as Arya went to reach for something else in her bag. This time, she pulled out a white cape that was embroidered with the Varden's crest. "A gift from Nasuada, you original cape was destroyed."

He nodded before tying it into a knot around the base of his neck, completing his ensemble. He glanced at Arya. "How do I look?"

Her answer did not surprise him, "Fit for battle."

With his swords strapped to his waist, the two of them made way for Nasuada's pavilion like they had been doing since before the arrival of the Empire's army. His armor clanked with every step he took but it was comfortable sound that he'd grown used to. Though they had not gone to war yet, it was a precaution in case they were attacked without formality. Arya, Eragon observed was an intimidating sight. Armored as a man, her sword Tamerlein hung from her waist, the green a startling color against the silver of her armor. She was one of the most deadliest warriors he'd ever met.

"Where are the dragons?"

"Scouting enemy movement from above, they seem restless," was Arya's reply. They'd reached Nasuada's tent entering to find her also garbed for war. The sight of her sent apprehension through him, though he knew she was capable of holding her own he could not see her in war. To his surprise, he worried for her not as his liege lord but also as a friend.

She glanced up acknowledging their presence. She took a moment to glance at Eragon in his new armor. "A fine fit indeed, once our enemy catches sight of you it would surely give them pause."

They approached her table where she was studying a slew of maps. "I've been trying to find a way to give us the best chance at victory if not then at drawing out the battle. But it is hard to plan a strategy on a battlefield such as the Burning Plains."

"Then we'll just have to attack them head on," said Eragon as he too studied the map.

"A simple strategy but it seems to be the only way we have left." She sighed rubbing her face tiredly. "We need a strategy that will give us the best chances in this war and that will not turn it into a war of attrition, the Varden just can't handle that."

"Saphira and I can lead a charge against them then, if we can push them back or prolong them then it could give the Varden an advantage," said Eragon.

"It's too dangerous, none of the dragons can take to the sky before we take care of Galbatorix's magicians," said Arya with a shake of her head. "We're confined to the ground until then."

He grunted, hating the thought of it. But she was right and it would be foolish to fly in an open space with magicians at large. For the next few hours they spent it planning of a strategy that would put them at an advantage before the flap to the tent was cast aside. Both he and Arya pulled their swords inches out of their sheaths, alerted of this new presence.

To his surprise, he found himself staring at Murtagh and standing beside him was the dwarf, Orik. "Murtagh!" it was Nasuada who spoke and he could hear the relief and delight in her voice at the sight of his half brother.

In response, Murtagh bowed deeply to her his smile brighter than Eragon could recall. He shared a look with Arya, she must have saw the feelings that Murtagh held for the ruler of the Varden. If anything Murtagh was infatuated with her. "My lady."

"How did you get our message so quickly?" she asked, Eragon wondering the same.

Instead be shook his head, moving forward with ease to join them. "I didn't; I learned about Galbatorix's army from my scrying and left Ellesmera the same day." He smiled at her again. "It's good to be back with the Varden."

"I've heard much about your tales in Ellesmera from Arya and Eragon, Murtagh. It is good to know that your back has been healed, with you here we now are on even footing with the Empire. Or with a slight advantage in any case, the Varden is glad at your return." Her mail clinking as she seated herself in a large, high backed chair and turned to Orik, who had yet to speak. She welcomed him and asked if he had aught to add to Murtagh's tales. Orik shrugged and provided a few anecdotes for his stay in Ellesmera, though Eragon knew that he kept his true observations a secret for his king.

Nasuada nodded, "Though I am heartened to know that we will have the elves by our side if we can weather this onslaught, I want to ask if you've seen any of Hrothgar's warriors during your flight from Aberon. We are counting on their reinforcements."

It was Thorn who answered. _No, but then it was dark and I often flown above or between the clouds. I could have easily missed a camp under those conditions. In any case I doubt we would cross paths, for I flew straight from Aberon and the dwarves would likely choose a different route._

Eragon nodded, that wasn't comforting but at least they had another reckoning force returned to the Varden. Murtagh may not be as strong as Eragon was nor as swift as Arya but he can hold his own against more than dozens of Galbatorix's soldiers.

"What," asked Murtagh "is the situation here?"

Nasuada sighed and began to inform them of the occurrences that had happened while he was absent. By the time, Nasuada had explained the number of soldiers that they were up against, Murtagh's expression became one of dismay. "A hundred thousand soldiers! Where did they come from? It seems impossible that he could find more than a handful of people willing to serve him."

"They were conscripted. We can only hope that the men who were torn from their homes won't be eager to fight. If we can frighten them badly enough, they may break ranks and flee. Our numbers are greater than in Farthen Dur, for King Orrin has joined forces with us and we have received a veritable flood of volunteers since we began to spread the word about you, Eragon. Especially soldiers from the Empire who'd deserted their posts and came here to serve you."

This piece of information surprised him. For he hadn't heard of it before. "Is that so?"

"Yes, I apologize for not mentioning it to you earlier but we've managed to muster a battalion of deserters from Galbatorix's army. They came here to serve you, Eragon. Though I'm sure that Galbatorix is trying to stomp out rumors of you joining the Varden to keep his army in piece," said Nasuada with a slight smile. "They are very apt soldiers, and some I've come to value quite much."

"Who is their commander?"

"I've appointed Bard as the commander of that certain battalion seeing as most of them are familiar to his presence. But ultimately, they've sworn their loyalty to me," she said. Eragon nodded, never bothering to consider that some of the Empire might actually see fit to abandon their posts to follow him. It was a heartening prospect. He would have to visit them when he could. As she spoke there was a rustle of fabric in the tent and he felt the strange mind of Elva approaching though he often spoke to the young girl, it was still strange when he felt her presence approach him.

She appeared before Murtagh, "Welcome, Argetlam. Welcome Thorn." He saw Murtagh shiver at the sound of Elva's voice, which was out of place for one as young as she was.

Before anyone could say anything the flap to Nasuada's tent was thrown open and to Eragon's surprise Angela came flying in and in her hand was a…mallard. Knowing her intentions but not bothering to stop the herbalist, Eragon watched as the short woman clubbed Murtagh over the head with it. "So you've finally decided to come back, you enormous blockhead!"

No one moved and he was slightly surprised the Thorn had openly allowed Angela to attack his rider but then again, Murtagh could've told him to stand down. Nasuada, who was sitting on her chair looked torn between kicking the herbalist out or allowing events to unfold. While Orik was on the defensive for his foster brother. Arya gazed at Angela with an expression of what seemed to be respect and she made no move to intervene which surprised him. Eragon knowing that he should placate the woman stood still watching as Angela began her tirade on Murtagh.

It was even more colorful than before. The tension in the tent slowly began to degrade into bemusement as they watched the short woman reprimand Murtagh who stood a head taller than her of stronger stature and physique. Angela explained in very colorful details the level of idiocy he must have possessed to bless Elva so wrongly. She even went as far to insinuate that one of his grandparents mated with an Urgal therefore siring the monster known as Morzan and as a result he was birthed. At this part, she stopped to send Eragon an apologetic expression. "Of course, I mean no insult towards Selena, Eragon. I admire her greatly."

He shook his head not offended. "It is quite alright."

With that said she returned to Murtagh to describe the quite hideous punishments he ought to receive for his idiocy, in which she shook her mallard at his threatening. The ending, however, he had yet to hear from her which amused him to the point that he had to feign a cough. Even Arya was smiling faintly. Angela had ended her tirade with the idea that if Murtagh was to become a father he would end up alienating his child with his idiocy which would poison Alagaesia. And the few _very colorful _predictions she last said Eragon would rather not repeat.

When she stopped done, Murtagh spoke, not moved by her tirade but also smiling at the short woman. "You're quite right, and I'm going to try and remove the spell if Elva allows me."

Elva who was watching the tirade let out a small gasp and like before when Eragon had told her of Murtagh healing her, tears came to her eyes. Everyone went silent as they watched the proceedings. "The elves taught me how to undo a spell, and I believe I can free you of this curse. It won't be easy, but it can be done."

She hid her emotions behind a cynical mask of amusement as she regarded Murtagh, "Well, we shall see. Either way, you shouldn't try until after this battle."

"I could save you a great deal of pain."

"It wouldn't do to exhaust you when I survival may depend on your talents. I do not deceive myself; you are more important than me." A sly grin crossed her face. "Besides, if you remove your spell now, I won't be able to help any of the Varden if they are threatened. You wouldn't want Nasuada to die because of that, would you?"

"No," admitted Murtagh with feeling. He paused for a long time, considering the issue, then said, "Very well, I will wait. But I swear to you: if we win this fight, I shall right this wrong."

The girl tilted her head to one side, "I will hold you to your word, Rider."

"As will I," said Angela, she glanced at the mallard in her hand and then to Murtagh before chucking it outside of the tent through the small gap that Thorn's head made in the opening. "I wouldn't need that anymore."

Rising from her chair, Nasuada said, "Good, now that everything is as it should be, I must introduce the three of you to Orrin and his nobles. Have you met King Orrin before, Orik?"

The dwarf shook his head. "I've never been this far west."

"I would also like to accompany you, Nasuada." said Angela. "I've heard _interesting _things about this monarch in particular."

Eragon stepped forward, "By your leave my lady, but I would like to visit the battalion that you've spoken of earlier."

She nodded her head. "They occupy the north eastern corner of the Varden's camp. Bard should be attending to them right now. You will be accompanying him, Arya?"

"I shall."

"Then I will see the two of you later on," with that she swept outside if the pavilion everyone following but Eragon and Arya. Before Murtagh left, he gave them a confused look. Once gone, Eragon turned to Arya.

"Angela is amusing as ever," said Eragon before adding, "You seem to respect her greatly."

"She is a wise one."

"That can be arguable on certain grounds." The two of them left the pavilion making way for the location Nasuada briefly mentioned. She was right for they found Bard standing before a battalion of a thousand soldiers armored for battle. When the blond cook caught sight of Eragon he bowed in respect.

"My lord."

"Bard." He gestured towards the battalion. "Are these soldiers from the Royal Army?"

"Yes, they've joined when they heard tale of you deserting the Empire," explained Bard with a proud smile. "Galbatorix may be their king but you were their real commander. Would you like to speak with them?"

Eragon nodded, and stood before the group of soldiers who were gazing up at him in wonder and admiration, and he could see that they were trying to picture him as the person who hid beneath a helm and called himself Gabranth. Before he could say anything, a bellow tore echoed in the sky and they all glanced up to find the dragons diving down towards the battalion, causing emerald and sapphire rays of light to dance upon the ground. He was impressed when none of the soldiers fled with fright at the sight of the two magnificent beasts. When they flared their wings out to slow their descent to the ground, it caused torrents of wind of buffer them before they landed on the ground with a _thud._

_So they're from the Empire, _she said as she studied them with her large sparkling eyes. They held her gaze unwavering and unflinching despite the slight expression of fear on their face. _There is no doubt that they've served under us before, Eragon._

_Aye, _he turned to them, "I apologize for my lateness in saying so but I would like to welcome you all to the Varden." They remained silent and he knew that it was time to show them that he was truly the rider that they'd followed. "It is a tragic thing to leave your homes but what you've done was not easy I would know. But Galbatorix has twisted our minds and stolen our loyalty from us for long enough and now is the time for us to take back what is ours." He gazed down at them. "It will be a long and arduous task and there will be times when we will be devoid of hope. It is not easy here with the Varden and it will never be easy so long as we march against the Black King. The time has come for us to take back Alagaesia and restore this land to its former glory."

Beside him, Bard raised his hand up in a show of morality, "For Lord Eragon! For Alagaesia!" Saphira lifted her head and let loose a torrent of flames.

Their response was instantaneous, they raised their arms and cries of his name and of Alagaesia rang through the air. He gazed down at the battalion with a sense of pride, knowing that they'd came all the way to Surda to offer their services for him. Arya who stood beside him was staring down at the assembled men with approval, "That was most eloquent, Eragon."

_Indeed it was, _said Saphira with pride. _They will follow you to the ends of the earth, Eragon. And once the rest of the Empire hears of how Gabranth is supporting the Varden they will no doubt follow in your footsteps._

_The world is changing, _Eridor's deep voice rumbled in his mind. _Even the Empire is seeing that change as the rest of the races are._

_The lethargy that we've been in since the Fall of the Riders is finally abating with the Forsworn and Durza gone, we have an even chance at defeating Galbatorix. _He turned to Arya and could see the light in her eyes through the cheers of his soldiers. For the next few hours, Eragon spent a decent amount of time with the soldiers knowing most of them by name for the majority served under him. And often times he was surprised to see high ranked generals and lieutenants part of the battalion. From what they'd told him, they along with their families made the trip to Surda to join the Varden after hearing tides about him. It wasn't easy either for Galbatorix was trying to spread word of his death to dissuade anymore soldiers from joining the Varden.

He was also pleasantly surprised to find skilled warriors there. With this battalion, he was sure that it would greatly help the Varden as an organization. The sun was no more than a finger's breadth above the horizon when a runner arrived at the camp. He told Eragon that Nasuada ordered him to attend her at once. "An' I think you'd better hurry, Shadeslayer, if you don't mind me saying so."

After bidding the soldiers goodbye they made their way through the gray tents towards Nasuada's pavilion. Eragon and Arya running while the dragons moved at their normal but large strides. A harsh tumult above them caused Eragon to lift his eyes from the treacherous ground long enough to glance overhead.

What he saw was a giant flock of birds wheeling between the two armies. He spotted eagles, hawks, and falcons, along with countless greedy crows and their larger, dagger-beaked, blue-backed, rapacious cousin, the raven. Each bid shrieked for blood to wet its throat and enough hot meat to fill its hot belly and sate its hunger. By experience and instinct, they knew that whenever armies appeared in Alagaesia, they could expect to feast on acres of carrion.

"They seem even more eager to start this battle than we are," Eragon said with a wry smile.

"If it presents them an opportune moment to feast, then they will hope for anything," Arya answered not pausing in her long strides as they ran side by side with one another. She was, Eragon observed, the faster of the two.

Eragon entered the pavilion, he was met by a steely rasp as Murtagh, Jormundur, and a half-dozen of Nasuada's commanders drew their swords at the intruders. The men lowered their weapons as Nasuada said, "Come here, Eragon."

"What is your bidding?" Eragon asked.

"Our scouts report that a company of some hundred Kull approach from the northeast."

Eragon frowned. He had not expected to encounters Urgals in this battle, since Durza no longer controlled them and so many had been killed in Farthen Dur. But if they had come, they had come. Though he wasn't sure whether or not it was to battle the Varden or something entirely different. "Do you wish for me to eliminate them? Saphira and I easily could."

Nasuada was watching both his and Murtagh's faces carefully as she said, "We can't do that, Eragon. They're flying a white flag, and they have asked to talk with me."

Eragon nodded contemplating the idea as Murtagh gaped at her. "Surely you don't intend to grant them an audience?"

"I will offer them the same courtesies I would to any foe who arrives under the banner of truce."

"They're brutes, though. Monsters! It's folly to allow them into the camp…Nasuada; I have seen the atrocities Urgals commit. They relish pain and suffering and deserve no more mercy than a rabid dog. There is no need for you to waste time over what is surely a trap. Just give the word and I and every last one of your warriors will be more than willing to kill these foul creatures for you."

"I don't see the harm in meeting with them," said Eragon interrupting the rather heated tension in the pavilion. Everyone's eyes jumped to him and he could see the approval in Nasuada's eyes at his words. "Even if it is a trap, Saphira and I are more than enough to fend them off."

"It's still too dangerous for her to meet with those monsters," protested Murtagh.

First Nasuada said something to Murtagh in a low undertone that none but Eragon and Arya caught. "Your training is indeed unfinished if you are so blinded." Then she raised her voice, an in it Eragon heard the same adamantine notes of command that her father had possessed. "You all forget that I fought in Farthen Dur, the same as you, and that I saw the savagery of the Urgals…However, I also saw that our own men commit acts just as heinous. I shall not denigrate what we have endured at the Urgals' hands, but neither shall I ignore potential allies when we are so greatly outnumbered by the Empire."

"My Lady, it's too dangerous for you to meet with a Kull."

"Too dangerous?" Nasuada raised an eyebrow. "While I am protected by Eragon, Saphira, Elva, and all the warriors around me? I think not."

"Thorn and I shall also accompany you," Murtagh said through gritted teeth, his left hand gripping the pommel of Zar'roc tightly.

"As will Eridor and I."

Nasuada nodded and faced her commanders as if daring them to challenge her protection when she was accompanied by three riders. Then at Nasuada's behest, her guards tied back the front and side panels of the pavilion, leaving it open for all to see and allowing the dragons to crouch low next to their riders. Then Nasuada seated herself in her high backed chair, and Jormundur and the other commanders arranged themselves in two parallel rows so that anyone who wished an audience with her had to walk between them. Eragon and Arya stood on her right hand, Murtagh and Elva on her left.

Less than five minutes later, a great roar of anger erupted from the eastern edge of the camp. The storm of jeers and insults grew louder until a single Kull entered their view, walking toward Nasuada while a mob of the Varden peppered him with taunts. The ram held his head high and bared his yellow fangs, but did not otherwise react to the abuse directed at him. He was a magnificent specimen, eight and a half feet tall, with strong, proud—if grotesque—features, thick horns that spiraled all the way around, and a fantastic musculature that made it seem he could kill a bear with a single blow. His only clothing was a knotted loincloth, a few plates of crude iron armor held together with scraps of mail, and a curved metal disk nestled between his two horns to protect the top of his head. His long black hair was in a queue.

As Eragon stood beside Nasuada he couldn't help but admire the Urgal's courage in confronting an entire army of enemies along and unarmed. When the Urgal stopped before the eaves if the pavilion, not daring to come any closer Nasuada had her guards shot for quiet to settle the crowd. Everyone looked at the Urgal, wondering what he would do next.

The Urgal lifted his bulging arms towards the sky, inhaled a mighty breath and then opened his maw and bellowed at Nasuada. In an instant, a thicket of swords pointed at the Kull, but he paid them no attention and continued his ululation until his longs were empty. Then he looked at Nasuada, ignoring the hundreds of people who longed to kill him. "What treachery is this, Lady Nightstalker? I was promised safe passage. Do humans break their words so easily?"

Trying to clear some confusion, Eragon bent down to whisper to Nasuada, "Don't take offense. This is how they greet their war chiefs. The proper response is to then butt heads, but I don't think you want to try that."

She nodded, and then she said to the Kull and also to her men beyond, "The Varden are not liars like Galbatorix and the Empire. Speak your mind; you need fear no danger while we hold council under the conditions of truce."

The Urgal grunted and raised his head even higher in a gesture of friendship. "I am Nar Garzhvog of the Bolvek tribe. I speak for my people." It seemed as if he chewed on each word before spitting it out. "Urgals are hated more than any other race. Elves, dwarves, humans all hunt us, burn us, and drive us from our halls."

"Not without good reason," pointed out Nasuada.

Garzhvog nodded. "Not with reason. Out people love war. Yet how often are we attacked just because you find us as ugly as we find you?" At this, Eragon chuckled lightly and even Arya had a faint smile on her face. He never did see it _that_ way. "We have thrived since the fall of the Riders. Our tribes are now so large; the harsh land we live in can no longer feed us."

"So you made a pact with Galbatorix."

"Aye, Lady Nightstalker. He promised us good land if we killed his enemies. He tricked us, though. His flame-haired shaman, Durza, bent the minds of our war chiefs and forced our tribes to work together, as is not our way. When we learned this in the dwarves' hollow mountains, the Herndall, the dams who rule us, sent my brood mate to Galbatorix to ask why he used us so." Garzhvog shook his head. "She did not return. Our finest rams died for Galbatorix, and then he abandoned us like a broken sword. He is drajl and snake-tongued and a lack-horned betrayer. Lady Nightstalker, we are fewer now, but we will fight with you if you let us."

"What is the price?" asked Nasuada. "Your Herndall must want something in return."

"Blood. Galbatorix's blood. And if the Empire falls, we ask that you give us land, land for breeding and growing, land to avoid more battles in the future."

Despite the opposition that Murtagh and her commanders had, Nasuada briefly glanced at Eragon and he nodded a small inclination of his head. She again lifted her voice, "Very well, Nar Garzhvog. You and your warriors may bivouac along the eastern flank of our army, away from the main body, and we shall discuss terms of our pact."

"Ahgrat ukmar," growled the Kull, clapping his fists to his brow. "You are a wise one Herndall, Lady Nightstalker."

"Why do you call me that?"

"Herndall?"

"No, Nightstalker?"

Garzhvog made a _rut-rut_ sound that Eragon interpreted as laughter. "Nightstalker is the name we gave your sire because of how he hunted us in the dark tunnels under the dwarf mountain and because of the color of his hide. As his cub, you are worthy of the same name." Instead of turning to leave, he remained where he was which prompted a question from Nasuada.

"Is there something else you wish to discuss with me?"

"No but with your rider, Lady Nightstalker." There was a ripple of movement as everyone turned their gaze to Eragon who was staring at the Kull with interest. Nasuada nodded and motioned for Eragon to speak.

"And what is it that you wish to speak with me about, Garzhvog?" Eragon asked.

"My tribe and I," he began his head held high, "We are honored to have the chance to battle alongside such a mighty warrior, and one who has done so much for us, Firesword."

Eragon frowned, "What do you mean? I have killed scores of your kin."

"By killing Durza, you freed us from his control. We are in your debt Firesword. None of our rams will challenge you, and if you visit our halls, you and the dragon, Flametongue, will be welcomed as no outsiders ever before."

He had not expected such a response from the Kull, lifting his head high in a gesture of respect Eragon said, "You honor me so, Nar Garzhvog. I won't forget. And if the Empire falls, then I would like to visit your halls one day."

The Kull nodded and with that he turned on his heel and strode out of camp. Standing Nasuada proclaimed, "Anyone who attacks the Urgals shall be punished as if he attacked a fellow human. See that word of this is posted in every company."

No sooner had she finished than Eragon noticed King Orrin approaching at a quick pace, his cape flapping about him. When he was close enough, he cried, "Nasuada! Is it true you met with an Urgal? What do you mean but it, and why wasn't I alerted sooner? I don't—"

He was interrupted as a sentry emerged from the ranks of gray tents, shouting, "A horseman approaches from the Empire!"

In an instant, King Orrin forgot his argument and joined Nasuada as she hurried toward the vanguard of the army, followed by at least a hundred people. Rather than stay among the crowd, Eragon as well as Arya and Murtagh pulled themselves on their dragons allowing them to carry them to their destination.

When they halted at the ramparts, trenches, and rows of sharpened poles that protected the Varden's leading edge, Eragon saw a lone soldier riding at a furious clip across the bleak no-man's-land. The soldier reined in his stallion some thirty yards away from the breastwork. "By refusing King Galbatorix's generous terms of surrender, you choose death as your fate. No more shall we negotiate. The hand of friendship has turned into the fist of war! If any of you still hold regard for your rightful sovereign, the all knowing, all-powerful King Galbatorix, then flee! None may stand before us once we set forth to cleanse Alagaesia of every miscreant, traitor, and subversive." Eragon sat bored as he listened to the soldier's long rant. That was until he decided to throw a severed head of one of the Varden's envoys at them.

And then it was Eridor to his surprise, who decided the man's fate by burning him alive. He glanced at Arya and she merely shrugged. The Varden cheered Eridor's accomplishment. Even Nasuada allowed a small smile before she clapped her hands. "They will attack at dawn, I think. Eragon, gather Du Vrangr Gata and prepare yourself for action. I will have orders for you within the hour." Taking Orrin by the shoulder, she guided him back toward the center of the compound saying, "Sire, there are decisions we must make. I have a certain plan, but it will require…"

_Let them come, _Saphira said. The tip of her tail twitched as she nudged Eridor with her snout. The emerald dragon blinked at her. _They will all burn._

That night as he'd done all sorts of orders that Nasuada had sent him, Eragon had made sure to find his parents before he fighting began to make sure that they were safe. He couldn't risk his mother's safety especially not with her with child. His father had dutifully stayed by her side, promising to make sure that no harm would come to her. And though he ached to put Rosalie and Desdemona on guard duty, he knew it would irk them to no end.

The sky pitch black over the Burning Plains, Eragon had found Arya waiting silently with Eridor for the battle to begin. She stood detached from the rest of the Varden's company, Eragon made his way over to her. The clanking of his armor drew her stare as well as Saphira's loud thuds. Both dragons, like Eragon and Arya, were armored for battle. "Anxious?" asked Eragon as he stopped before her.

She shook her head, her long tresses shifting as she did so. "Not quite," the two of them turned to stare out over the Burning Plains and what would be their battlefield tomorrow morning. "How do you feel about Nasuada's pact with the Urgals?"

"She did it for the sake of the Varden and for that I commend her," said Arya simply. "In war, a leader cannot simply do what the masses believe to be right but what they believe to be in the best interest of their subjects. And she'd performed that part dutifully."

He nodded, "Are you prepared for dawn to come? Or do you need more time?" asked Eragon as an afterthought.

Arya's eyes twinkled as she held his gaze knowing that he was hinting at the fact that she always needed a decent amount of time for preparation. As he stared at her emerald eyes barely visible in the dim light of the campfires, he felt his tenderness for Arya burst forth. Ever since their union he found himself in her company constantly, something he'd grown used to and fond of. And even though he knew that she was a proud warrior, he wanted to protect her. Though he didn't dare voice that thought out loud knowing that it would only cause to anger her. Reaching forward he gently brushed a lock of hair out of her face inhaling the fragrance of crushed pine needles that refreshed his mind.

As the two of them stood there a harsh wail that pierced the air caused them to start. _What was that? _Saphira raised her head searching for the disruption.

_It comes from the Empire's camp._

Then the volume of cries increased until he was sure that the entire camp of the Varden could hear it as well. "What has happened?" Arya murmured, her head tilted to the side in slight annoyance at the piercing wails.

"If I were to guess correctly, I would say that Angela's brews of poisons are responsible for this," said Eragon as he tried to ignore the wails. "There's always something about her that you've to watch for."

Arya nodded. "It is an underhanded act but much needed if we are to prevail in this battle." Her lips were set into a thin line. Eragon nodded and the two of them waited with the dragons until the first rays of dawn came. But before they did, Eragon had reached forward to give Arya a chaste kiss.

"May Tamerlein win you much glory, Arya."

Her eyes were soft as they gazed up at him, her hand come to rest on the side of his face. "And may you bring us victory, Eragon."

He nodded leaning into her hand as they waited for the signal to break and face the early dawn that brought with it a momentous battle. Fate was converging on them.

**Once again Merry Christmas everyone! And to all a good night :)**

**P.S. I dutifully stayed away from beer but I had a nice touch of a rather delightful bottle of wine...**


	44. Chapter 39

**And so here is the Battle of the Burning Plains (with a few mixture of CP's original battle thought not as much). With this chapter it marks the end of Eldest and the halfway mark through my Inheritance Rewrite and I'm very much excited to reach the end of this story. It's odd, when I started this rewrite I wanted to keep it as close as I could to the original plot but just with some differances. But when I read it, it's totally different. I must say that I'm impressed with myself. Anyways, enjoy reading everyone consider this as a New Years Gift.**

The first horizontal rays of dawn already streaked across the land when Trianna said to Eragon. _It is time. _He and Arya shared one last look and kiss before they clambered onto their saddles. Saphira moved forward, her movement causing loud thuds in the ground as she walked towards the front lines like they'd planned. Nasuada was against the idea at first but she had eventually consented when the Varden needed to see a strong showing of their rider to gain to moral to keep fighting.

It didn't take long for them to reach the opening that was cleared during the night. The Varden poured through the gap, quiet as they could be. Rank upon rank of warriors marched past and to Eragon's pleasant surprise, Bard led the first battalion which consisted of recent warriors from the Empire. Their shoulders were set and face determined. It impressed him to see them so calm and collected especially with the prospect of facing their old comrades in battle. On top of Saphira, he could see Nasuada on her roan charger surrounded by a group of people that consisted of Arya and Murtagh as well as Thorn and Eridor, Trianna, and his three other servants. They each acknowledged each other with quick glances.

During the night, the vapors of the Burning Plains had accumulated low to the ground allowing the Varden to cross three quarters of no-man's-land before they were seen by the Empire's sentries. As alarm horns rang out before them, Nasuada shouted, "Now, Eragon! Tell Orrin to strike. To me, men of the Varden! Fight to win back your homes. Fight to guard your wives and children! Fight to overthrow Galbatorix! Attack and bather your blades in the blood of our enemies! Charge!" She spurred her horse forward and with a great bellow, the men followed, shaking their weapons above their heads.

Doing as she'd ordered, Eragon conveyed Nasuada's orders to Barden, the spell caster who rode with King Orrin. A moment later, he heard the drumming of hooves as Orrin and his cavalry—accompanied by the rest of the Kull, who could run as fast as horses—galloped out of the east. They charged into the Empire's flank, pinning the soldiers against the Jiet River and distracting them long enough for the Varden to cross the remainder of the distance between them without opposition.

The two armies collided with a deafening roar. And through the harsh shouts and clashes of swords against shields, a feeling of exhilarating freedom overwhelmed him. There was a freedom in battle that couldn't be found anywhere else. Almost immediately he felt his ward drawing upon his strength as they deflected attacks from Saphira, Arya, and Nasuada.

He frowned as he glanced at the overwhelming mass of the Empire's army. There must be a great deal of magicians in their ranks. _Trianna, _he sent his thoughts to the sorceress. _I will be busy fighting but once you find the mind of a magician alert me and I shall dispatch them._

_Yes, Shadeslayer._

Bringing forth his bow and arrow bestowed upon him by Queen Islanzadi, Eragon notched an arrow and aimed it for the catapults that were stationed throughout the Empire's army. Narrowing his eyes, he let it forth with a murmur of the word: brisingr. He smiled satisfied that his arrow managed to pierce the wood of the catapult, causing it to ignite in flames like a bonfire. _So Durza's dark magic was useful in some terms, _Eragon thought. Ridding the Empire of these catapults would greatly staunch their efforts in fending off the Varden's masses.

Du Vrangr Gata found the first enemy spellcasters. The instant he was alerted Eragon reached out to the woman who made the discovery and with the immense power of his own mind he easily slew the magician in a grand display of theatrics also killing the company of soldiers he protected. A knot in the Empire's army fell to the ground to the cheers of the Varden. That would surely bring fear to the rest of the Empire's magicians.

The fighting went well from where he sat atop Saphira. As she bathed their enemies on the ground in her torrents of flames, he showered them with arrows from above. Slightly behind him, Murtagh was trying to dispatch the rest of the catapults that were now being manned and releasing blocks of ceramic balls and liquid fires. Arya and Eridor were terrifying in their own right as they dispatched every enemy soldier they came across with ease and grace. As Eragon fought he felt a hint of pride color his emotions. He was far from worrying about Arya. Notching another arrow, he sent it flying to one the few catapults that remained watching as it caught firing collapsing in on itself as it fell on a group of soldiers that surrounded it.

After another hour of fighting atop Saphira and overwhelming magician after magician, Eragon let out a curse. He was doing no good sitting atop Saphira and merely shooting arrows at his enemies. With ease, he dismounted and positioned himself near her right paw. _Enough of this, let us show them what it truly means to fear a dragon and her rider._

Saphira roared in response causing the enemies before her to falter in instinctive fear. She crouched low on the ground here sapphire eyes glittering. Drawing out both of his blades, he bent his knees ready to launch forward in any moment's notice. _Yes, let us, little one._

_Ready? _Her answer to his question was to lurch forward her jaws opening as torrents of flames erupted from her maw, burning alive the soldiers before her. Letting their consciousness merge into one mine and one identity, the two of them charged the front lines of the Empire's army. It was amazing the ease in which they fought. Ignoring the cries of terror and the expression of betrayal on the soldiers' faces as they recognized that Eragon was truly Gabranth, the rider whom they'd served under, he slew the soldiers in his way. Blades dancing in his hands, he cut one soldier after the other down, while Saphira with her claws and jaws snapped and stomped on the other enemies. And they carried this out so until a berth of space was given to them, for their enemies feared the death they would bring them.

Behind him, he heard the Varden's cheers as they also swarmed forward. He had no trouble in eliminating those before him but he could tell that Murtagh was having a much more difficult time. It must be hard for him to fight against his own race. But Eragon had long but abandoned that hardship during his time under Galbatorix. Arya and Eridor had remained with the front line of the Varden to prevent any of the Empire's soldiers to break through their ranks. Bard with his strategic planning had maneuvered his battalion into a position so that the Empire's only choice was to retreat. And from the midst of the Varden he saw Nasuada well and on her charger, her blade coated with gore and blood as she shouted heartening words to her subjects. Beside her were Rosalie and Desdemona, who protected her with sword, shield, and magic. Finny being inhumanly strong had grabbed the stakes from where they were in the trenches guarding the Varden's leading lines and launching it at the Empire taking down scores of men one after the other. It was a heartening sight to see that they weren't in clear defeat and that the Empire was retreating with every advance the Varden made on it leaving in their wake, hundreds of their fallen comrades.

Eragon slashed down another foe in his way. Though they may be effective in pushing the Empire's army into a slow retreat, they refused to give way. And soldier after soldier took the position of another. And when another died, one more would take his place. Du Vrangr Gata was doing well on seeking out Galbatorix's magicians until a good number of them were dead, leaving their soldiers unprotected. Knowing that, Eragon had reached for magic to fight the soldiers before him using the twelve words for death. And they fell before him like leaves in the summer breeze. He glanced towards his side to see Murtagh and Thorn, behind him, he could feel Arya and Eridor. Reaching with his mind towards them, he was glad that they recognized him, it would distract him for a moment if they were to attack his mind in fear it was an enemy magician. _What is it, Eragon? _Murtagh questioned as he dodged a mace to his head.

_Yes, what indeed? _Arya agreed.

_How do you feel about joining Saphira and I? _His question caught them off guard but they eventually understood what he was asking. A few moments later, Thorn appeared on Saphira's right flank with Murtagh, Orik, and his guards centered about him. Then Arya and Eridor joined Saphira's left flank. They were all smeared and mattered with gore and blood, whether it was theirs or their enemies, he couldn't tell. Before them, Galbatorix's soldiers wavered at the sight of the line that the three dragons formed. _Saphira…_

She opened her maws, Thorn and Eridor following suit, and breathed flames onto the Empire's army. If it wasn't for the fact that they were surrounded by battle and death, he would have called it beautiful. Jets of emerald, sapphire, and ruby flames burst forward, burning their enemies alive. Once done, Eragon nodded to Murtagh and Arya. Then they charged their dragons behind them. Eragon had often fought with Arya but to fight with her and Murtagh by his side was different. While he weaved between Arya's dance of death, he often assisted in Murtagh's charge in slewing their opponents. The three of them were too much for the Empire and soldiers after soldiers scrambled backwards away from them knowing that to face them was to face death. As Arya danced by with Tamerlein in hand, drenched with blood she smiled at him fierce and joyous not showing her exhaustion. He returned it in kind knowing the emotions that she felt. And onward they forged, the three of them in their ferocious charge.

And the sun began its descent toward evening.

As they prepared themselves to continue their assault, a trumpet sounded in the east, loud and clear, and King Orrin shouted, "The dwarves are here! The dwarves are here!"

_Dwarves? _Eragon blinked and glanced around as did Arya and Murtagh but the only ones around them were soldiers, friends and enemies alike. Then it registered to him. King Hrothgar and his army had finally arrived to aid them. Murtagh had climbed onto Thorn to look out to the east, then he shouted with renewed vigor, Thorn's roars echoing louder than his. "Take heart! King Hrothgar is here! And it looks like every single dwarf is behind him! We'll crush the Empire!" the men roared. "Now take your swords and remind these flea-bitten cowards why they should fear us. Charge!"

Just as they charged again, Eragon heard a second shout, this one from the west, "A ship! A ship is coming up the Jiet River!"

He frowned, a ship? _Thorn and I shall attend to it, Eragon. _He nodded and the two of them took off, veering west towards the Jiet River to deal with the upcoming ship. He turned to Arya, helping her to kill the seven soldiers before her.

_Would you like to dance with me?_

Her thoughts flowed through his own mind, filled with adrenaline and a very small tint of amusement. _Can you keep up?_

He grinned, taking his position beside her. _I could dance all day. _With that they ran forward, Eragon in the lead. As he brought his sword down on one enemy, he would move his feet to allow Arya to twist about him and in a flurry of grace and elegance dispatch oncoming soldiers. It was a dance of death. Though Eragon didn't think of himself as an elegant dancer, when it came to a blade however, he outdid even the most trained swordsman. As he watched Arya fight, he paused for a moment to admire her speed and grace. Her hair twirled about her, her eyes slanted in concentration, and her body movements fluid and graceful. And for a moment he didn't think he would mind dying by her sword.

_If you don't pay attention, you'll die by another's sword, _said Saphira. He dodged a blow to his head and shrugged when Arya's questioning expression met his. She would no doubt be mad about the fact that he was distracted by her appearance in battle. Once this was all over, he was going to embrace her for the longest time in his life, glad that she nor Saphira was his enemy. _That's very sweet of you._

_Eragon, _it was Murtagh, _Do not attack the ship; it doesn't belong to the Empire. It's come to our aid. Spread the word to Trianna and the others for me, will you?_

_I shall,_ though he was curious as to who was on that ship, Eragon contacted Trianna to tell her to leave the ship and she in turn relayed the message to Nasuada. Blocking a swipe to his gut, he easily severed his opponent's head and in a crude display, kicked it at the soldiers before him knocking three to the ground. Arya's expression was one of disdain but she didn't voice her opinion on it as she brought Tamerlein upward in an arch, slashing a soldier straight up from groin to head. If that wasn't a painful death, he didn't know what was.

With the help of the dwarves, the tide of battle which was already tilted in the Varden's favor became even more so. Together they pushed back the Empire, dividing them, crushing them, and forcing Galbatorix's vast army into submission. Their efforts were also helped by some of Angela's poisons that had taken effect during the battle. Many of the Empire's officers behaved irrationally which caused confusion in their ranks allowing the Varden to easily dispatch of them. The soldiers seem to realize that they no longer had a chance of winning, for hundreds surrendered, or defected outright and turned on their former comrades, or threw down their weapons and fled.

And the day passed into the late afternoon.

Eragon was in the midst of fighting two soldiers when a flaming javelin roared past overhead and buried itself in one the Empire's command tents twenty yards, away setting it ablaze. He frowned killing the two soldiers before glancing back at the source of the missile. It came from the ship banked on the Jiet River and soon, a dozen more followed. _What are they playing at?_

Soon afterward, a horn echoed from the read of the Empire's army, then another and another. Someone began to pound a sonorous drum, the peals of which stilled the field as everyone looked around for the source of the beat. He glanced overhead, a strange sensation coming to life in his heart. An ominous figure detached itself from the sky like a barbed black shadow. The tugging in his heart became stronger and his right eye burned. _Not now! _Then a ray of light escaped the cloud and struck the figure crossways from the west.

It was a hideous beast. With the form of a dragon, the monster floated above them its skin, or scale, soot black. His wing membrane was thin and ebony, his underbelly was not like Saphira's or any of the dragons but thin as if malnourished, the skin clinging to its rib cage. It bore long fangs for teeth, spaced unevenly about its mouth, some overlapping the other. In his charcoal eyes, gleamed a terrible thirst for blood. _What on earth is that thing?_

_An imitation of a dragon, _Saphira answered sniffing the air above them. _Can you sense it? The Eldunari holding that abomination together? _He reached out with his mind and indeed he could, lodged deep within the beast's chest was the power of an Eldunari, an old one that was fueling the creature with energy.

_What is it made of?_

_Rotting flesh._

His face scrunched up in disgust. Never had he thought that Galbatorix would resort to such foul tricks. It was revolting. _If we can kill it then we can save that Eldunari, _said Eragon. He felt her consent and was about to climb onto her until he caught sight of a dark saddle strapped onto the beast. In it sat a man garbed in polished steel armor and in his hand he wielded and colorless blade.

_He too has the power of the Eldunari with him, though younger, _Eragon frowned watching as the man lifted his hand and a ball of sapphire light gathered in his open palm. His heart pounded in his chest as he felt his soul reach out for the energy. _It couldn't be! _The sapphire ball of energy sprang from his hand and smote King Hrothgar on the breast, killing the dwarf king. Eragon grunted going to one knee as he felt his heart pound erratically in his chest.

_Eragon! _Saphira roared, swiping at soldiers who had seen his moment of weakness and were running forward to charge him. _What is wrong?_

_My soul—I don't—_he grunted as he heard the dwarves' cries of anger and sorrow, Thorn's roars added to the grief. "Eragon Shadeslayer," a mocking voice boomed out over the Burning Plains. "Traitor to your king, Empire, and people! Come and face me if you dare! Let Jeremiah Asburg teach you the true meaning of treason!"

_Jeremiah Asburg? _He remembered the man next to Barst. A proud commander, devoted to Galbatorix, someone who would rather cut off both of his hands before upsetting the king. So this is who he sent to face Eragon. Shaking off the constricting feeling in his chest, he climbed onto Saphira. _Fly, Saphira._

_Eragon—_

_I'll be alright;_ she hesitated for another moment before unfurling her wings and pushing off from the ground, gaining leverage and altitude. Making sure to protect his mind against Jeremiah and the countless hearts that he must be carrying, Eragon sheathed one of his blades as he readied the other. Jeremiah was a young man; he had a hard face and strong jaw, his aura one of pure authority. But as they stared at one another in the air, Eragon felt slightly sick when he smelt the rotting flesh of the beast that he rode. _Disgusting._

The two beasts collided, Saphira being the bigger of the two but the black beast that he rode powered by the Eldunari was the stronger one for it batted her away with ease. She didn't abate in her attacks but charged again, this time using her hind legs and jaws to injury the beast. Eragon frowned when he saw chunks of rotting flesh fall to the battle field below, the beast seemingly immune to the injuries it was receiving. Through their connection Eragon could feel Saphira's distaste having to tear away at rotting flesh.

He turned to Jeremiah, he couldn't fight him with his mind, it would be too dangerous. And crossing swords while Saphira was locked in battle could hurt her. "You look much like an elf than a monster, Eragon, or should I say Gabranth?" Jeremiah called out to him, his voice deep and filled with vengeance.

"I'd prefer it if you call me Eragon." He said amidst the snarls of the Saphira and the beast. "Has Galbatorix become desperate enough to turn to false imitations such as this?"

"_His majesty _has decided that he'd let you and the rest of the riders spend too much time out of the Empire. He wishes to see that you return to Uru'baen," said Jeremiah with a sneer.

Eragon raised a brow, unmoved, "And what if I don't?"

"Thrysta!" He grunted as a ball of sapphire hit him square in the chest and that was when he felt it again, the familiar sensation as if he was connected to the magic. He had no doubt about it anymore; Jeremiah had half of his soul. Falling from his saddle, he tried to keep from rotating not frightened that he could possibly be falling to his death. If Jeremiah had half of his soul, would he be powerless in fighting a part of him? Would it even work like that?

Before he could think anymore on it, a hand gripped his catching him from falling to a fatal landing on the Burning Plains. He glanced up to find Arya staring down at him, riding atop Eridor. He gave her a grateful look, she nodded.

_I'm underneath you, Eragon, _below him, he saw Saphira waiting, suspended in air for him to return to his saddle. Releasing Arya's hand, he landed perfectly in the saddle.

_We must land Saphira; it's too dangerous to fight Jeremiah like this. _She consented and descended to the nearest flat open area, a small stone plateau set along the western edge of the Jiet River. The water had turned red from the blood pouring into the river. Dismounting Saphira, he turned in time to see Jeremiah jumping from the foul beast that he rode.

They didn't give each other a moment more and charged blade in hand. Fighting Jeremiah was more difficult than he had thought. With the Eldunari on his side, he could withstand most of Eragon's attacks though he couldn't compete with the speed Eragon possessed. Moving forward, he cut the man on his face watching as blood oozed out from the cut. Jeremiah swung at him, retreating he grunted when the tip of his blade managed to get past his wards and knick his armor. Wards were ineffective against him it seemed.

"You can't win against me, Jeremiah," said Eragon as he took a defensive position. "I will always be the better of us."

"That may be so, but let me test your theory," when the ball of sapphire energy flew towards him, he dodged ignoring the rapid beating of his heart as it recognized that the energy belonged to its other half. His right eye burned. Taking advantage of his temporary blindness, another ball of energy hit him sending him flying to the ground.

He felt anger wash over him fierce and uncontrolled at the thought of Jeremiah using his soul to fight him. Rushing forward he brought his blade up and they met clash for clash until Jeremiah shouted a harsh word. As Eragon stood there struggling with one of his blades to unbalance the man, the point in which metal met metal glowed brightly until to his dismay his sword snapped under the pressure and the force of it unbalanced him allowing Jeremiah to send him to the ground with a kick. His broken sword flying out of his hand he scowled, finally angered to the point it made him want to rip the man's heart out. First his soul and now his sword…

_Then do it, Eragon. _He froze where he lay on the ground when he heard his shadow's voice swim through his mind. He'd forgotten what he sounded like. _I can help you teach him a lesson if you let me._

He hesitated. It would be too dangerous to trust in the words of the spirit.

_It will be very easy if you use my magic to defeat him, with the seal over you right eye, how much harm can it be? _Eragon thought for a moment to himself. He couldn't overcome Jeremiah's magic and if he wanted to survive…A laugh echoed through his mind as his shadow laughed at his acceptance. Immediately, he felt wave after wave of energy pulse through him and Saphira.

Getting to his feet, he rolled his neck from side to side trying to remove the kink he had from landing rather badly. A feeling of blood thirst washed over him followed by the desire to sink his sword into flesh. Letting a laugh escape his body, he faced Jeremiah. "How dare you use my soul against me, you filthy human," Eragon raised his hand watching as a shaft of crackling violet energy spring forth. It smote Jeremiah on the shoulder causing him to hollow in pain. He walked forward, sword in hand, feeling pleased at the sound of his pain. "You'll pay in blood for your folly."

Raising his sword, he brought it down severing Jeremiah's right arm from elbow to hand, a fountain of blood spraying him. He laughed unable to control the feelings that passed through him from his shadow. Below him, Jeremiah was pale as he raised his left hand and yelled something.

Blinded, Eragon stumbled backwards. When he regained his bearings he glanced up to find Jeremiah and his beast flying off towards the direction of Uru'baen specks of blood raining down on him. He cursed _should we chase them?_

_No, I'm tired and you are not in your right mind, Eragon._ He nodded and with some difficulty, suppressed the spirit in him. It took a while but he managed but the seal in his right eye didn't feel like it used to. When he was done he stared at where Jeremiah had left feeling loneliness wash over him. His soul was in his reach and yet, he couldn't take it back…

The battle was over from what Eragon saw as he stood on the plateau overlooking the Burning Plains. The Varden had won the battle despite the overwhelming numbers that they'd faced. He sighed, taking in a deep breath as he thought of Jeremiah and the Eldunari he carried. Next time they met he was going to tear him in half. _You and I both._

After a moment, he pointed towards where the Varden was regrouping, _we should search for Nasuada. _Now that his bloodlust had abated he felt tired for the first time that day. He did not mind killing others in war, but the thought of slaying so many made him somewhat saddened at the loss of life. He turned to Saphira as they picked their way between the corpses that littered the Burning Plains. _Are you hurt Saphira?_

_A few scratches but nothing life threatening, you can heal me once we find Nasuada, _he nodded. As they walked and he healed those who were wounded in their path, a hundred yards away he saw Orik bent over his fallen king as well as ten other dwarves and Murtagh. _Another tragedy war has brought upon us._

Eragon nodded at her words and they continued onward, angling towards the Varden's encampment. When they reached Nasuada's pavilion, Saphira went to join Eridor who was lying outside the command tent, his armor coated in blood but he otherwise looked well. He lifted his head at her approach allowing her to lie down beside him resting her head in his paws as he rest his head atop hers in an intimate gesture.

Eragon spared them one glance before he swept back the flap and ducked inside. In the center of the tent was Nasuada, who sat on the edge of a table, letting a maid remove her twisted armor while she carried on a heated discussion with Arya. To his relief they were unhurt and well.

They both stopped as they spotted him. Arya made her way towards him her eyes blazing and they both reached towards each other at the same time. In moments they were embracing one another, he took a deep breath inhaling her scent. Even though she was smeared in blood, she was still beautiful. After a moment, he gently kissed the side of her head before pulling away from Arya to face Nasuada who also embraced him. When they pulled away, she returned to her table.

"We were worried about you," he walked forward Arya's hand intertwined in his, "We couldn't see what happened to you and Saphira after you landed on plateau. When the dragon—beast— left and you didn't reappear, Arya tried to contact you but felt nothing, so we assumed. . ." she trailed off. He understood then the reason for Arya's embrace. "We were just debating the best way to transport Du Vrangr Gata and an entire company of warriors across the river."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I'd forgotten that I'd had my mind guarded during the battle," Eragon explained, he gently squeezed Arya's hand, she shifted on her feet acknowledging his statement. Then they set off on how to transport the Varden across the Jiet River when the flap was pulled open again. Instinctively, his free hand went to his sword, only sword, at the new arrivals. It was just Murtagh and another person who looked no older than him, he had brown hair and brown eyes, a regular appearance but the expression of determination on his face made him stand out.

Nasuada went to embrace Murtagh as well which seemed to please his tired half-brother. "Are you well?" asked Murtagh as he studied the dark skinned leader.

"Never better, but I'm tired, war certainly takes a lot out of one," Nasuada said with a slight smile. "In any case are you and Thorn well?"

"We are," said Murtagh, then he brought forth the man standing beside him. "Nasuada, I would like to introduce my cousin, Roran. Ajihad may have mentioned him to you before. Roran, Lady Nasuada, leader of the Varden. And this is Arya Svit-kona, the elves' ambassador." Roran bored to each of them in turn. Hesitating, Murtagh gestured towards Eragon, "And this is my half brother, Eragon Shadeslayer."

The surprise that crossed his face which was later replaced behind a mask of polite indifference didn't go unnoticed by anyone. So this was his cousin on his mother's side. Eragon spared him another glanced before turning back to Nasuada.

"It is an honor to meet Eragon's and Murtagh's cousin," said Nasuada.

"Indeed," added Arya. Eragon politely inclined his head when he felt Saphira's thoughts nudge him to be polite.

"A pleasant surprise," said Eragon with some difficulty. He didn't know Roran and couldn't claim that he liked what he saw in the man. He was proud and by the looks of it, as stubborn as a mule.

After they had finished exchanging greetings, Murtagh had explained how the entire village of Carvahall had arrived on the _Dragon Wing._ He was impressed with him truth be told and he could tell that Arya was as well. It was one thing to transverse the land of Alagaesia by himself but to take an entire village with him was a different story entirely.

"May they join the Varden, Nasuada?" asked Murtagh at the end of his narration.

She raised a dark eyebrow, studying Roran who didn't flinch or lower his gaze. "The Varden are in your debt Roran, it was you and your people who had helped us in destroying the tents of the Empire's commanders allowing us to send them into confusion. You helped us to win this battle. I won't forget that. Our supplies are limited, but I will see that everyone on your ship is clothed and fed, and that your sick are treated."

Roran bowed even lower, "Thank you, Lady Nasuada."

"If I weren't pressed for time, I would insist upon knowing how and why you and your village evaded Galbatorix's men, traveled to Surda, and found us. Even just the bare facts of your trek make for an extraordinary tale. I shall intend to learn the specifics—especially since I suspect that it concerns Murtagh—but I must deal with other, more urgent matters at the moment."

"Of course, Lady Nasuada."

"You may go, then."

"Please let him stay," Murtagh said, Nasuada gave him a quizzical look but heeded his request but instead turned to Eragon, asking him for his report on the battle.

Eragon told her of the composition of the beast that Galbatorix had created, made from rotting flesh—animal or human—he didn't know. That there was a certain spell that held the beast together, opting for not telling her of the Eldunari that created the creature. Then he spoke to her of Jeremiah and that he was one of Galbatorix's most devoted followers and that the king and endowed upon his powers that could rival a rider's. "In the few years that I've served Galbatorix, I had only met the man a handful of times but his loyalty to the Empire and to the king is deeper than his love for his parents or for himself. He'd rather lose his legs than displease Galbatorix."

"It's amazing how Galbatorix can garner so much loyalty from his subjects," observed Nasuada. Eragon nodded, continuing with his report. He told her of how in his anger to kill Jeremiah he had severed his arm and in his haste to escape, Jeremiah had blinded him and flew off with the beast made of rotting flesh.

"If we meet on the battle field again, I can assure you my lady that I'll rip his heart from his chest," said Eragon darkly as he thought of Jeremiah in possession of half of his soul. "He won't escape Saphira and I."

"I have no doubt about it," said Nasuada as she gazed at him. "In any case, we've dealt the Empire a stinging blow here at the Burning Plains. Our army which is smaller than Galbatorix's by compare has managed to force them to retreat and you've managed to injure their commander fatally. It will give the Varden much cause to continue our invasion of the Empire. You were right, Eragon." He stared at her not understanding where she was headed. "Talent and skill does determine the winner rather than sheer numbers."

He smiled slightly. "Yes, Rosalie and Desdemona fought beside you?"

"For beautiful young women, they are quite capable to slewing scores of men," she said with a faint smile. "And Finny has earned his title as a human catapult within our army. It is amazing the skills your servants possess."

"It is," he agreed thinking of them.

"Bard, I'm most impressed with. He has the strategic mind set of a commendable general." And for the next few minutes, they discussed the Varden's next actions and the best way to keep the warriors' morals high since they'd emerged victorious in this battle. At last Nasuada said, "Enough. We cannot decide this when we are bloody and tired and our minds clouded from fighting. Go, rest, and we shall take this up again tomorrow."

Eragon nodded and he and Arya left the command tent together. Once they were outside, Arya's nose scrunched up in disgust. "Do I smell horrid?" asked Eragon as he glanced down at himself, he was drenched in blood and his white cape that was bestowed upon him dripped crimson. He would have to wash that soon.

"No, the air is filled with the stench of blood and gore," she took a deep breath, the expression slowly melting from her face. "It is always unpleasant to bear after battle."

He glanced at her studying her armor for a moment, she was less covered in blood than he was, which irked him slightly. When he pointed it out, she smiled faintly. "That is because when I fight, it is but a swift and elegant dance. However, when you fight like you did today, it is rather. . . messy."

"So you say," said Eragon also smiling slightly.

"So I say." She agreed.

There was movement beside them and he turned to find the dragons up and on their feet, their armor sparkling in the dim light of the afternoon sun. They were beautiful if frightening. Behind him, he heard Murtagh and Roran speaking. "Will you not speak to your cousin?"

Eragon shook his head. "Not today, I'm rather tired. Maybe tomorrow. What will you do now?"

"Bathe and sleep." He nodded that sounded reasonable.

"I'd prefer the sleep."

"As I know you would."

"Will you leave now?"

She shook her head. "It has been a long battle, I would like to spend some time with you before I leave to attend to other duties." Eragon stared at her, smiling down into her emerald eyes. Though the both of them were dirtied with blood and gore and tired from the fighting that day, it was impossible not to feel their burdens lifted as they stood together, their hands intertwined like their destiny was.

Over the Burning Plains, their battle field in which corpse littered the crows and ravens were beginning to descend ready to feast on the dead.

**Please excuse some mistakes, my Beta is gone for the month (sadly enough) and I have to proof read the chapter and it's hard to catch mistakes when you're reading something that you wrote. Anyways, I hoped you all like this new enemy who possess half of Eragon's soul...What is going to happen to him now? Who knows, keep reading! Anyways, I hope you guys all had a wonderful christmas because I did and my New Years Party is coming up soon with my family and my boyfriend! I'm very excited for 2012!**


	45. Chapter 40

**Wow! 900 Reviews! 100 more and it'll be a thousand (Though I would love for it to hit 1000 before New Years I don't mind it being in the 900s) Anyways, I'm going to be busy with my parents' birthdays to update this weekend. My dad's birthday is on December 31st and my mother's is on January 1st. (It's a pain because I go out of cash with every end and beginning to a year, but I love them to death) Not to mention it's New Years! Anyways, I'll have my hands filled then. So I'm going to update today for you all.**

Arya stared at the basin filled with water. It had only been two days since the battle on the Burning Plains and already the Varden was trying to bury their dead and prepare to continue their campaign to invade the Empire. The battle was both a victory and loss for the Varden. They were able to prove to the Empire that they weren't as weak as Galbatorix had thought but in doing so they'd lost hundreds of warriors. It was saddening.

At the moment, she was about to report to her mother who was no doubt near the western edge of Du Weldenvarden preparing to invade the nearest city in the Empire, Ceunon. She had held off the report long enough. Today she had to report to her mother about the battle and about her own personal decisions that involved Eragon. They were no doubt going to be at odds with one another again.

Thinking of Eragon, she felt herself instinctively relax as she thought of him lending an able hand in healing the wounded and burying the dead with the rest of the Varden. She would assist as well but her hands were tied down to other duties that she had to perform before she could do so. After another minute of staring at the water filled basin, she bent over it reaching for her energy as she murmured quietly, "Draumr kopa," as well as a variety of other spells so she may speak and listen to her mother and her advisors.

The water went completely black for a moment before an oval shape brightened in the middle of the water and she beheld the interior of a large white tent, in which she saw an Erisdar, one of their magical lanterns, but seeing as it was morning its glow was unneeded. A tall elf with silver hair and battle-worn armor entered her field of vision and she immediately recognized him as Lord Dathedr, one of her mother's advisors as well as Arya's friend. He inclined his head and touched the first two fingers of his right hand to his lips, greeting her in which she responded in kind.

After they were done, Dathedr spared her a faint smile, "I am glad to know that you are well, Arya Drottningu, we heard tides of you battle against the Empire a few days ago and have been much concerned for your welfare as well as the other riders."

"I thank you for your concern, Dathedr-vor, I am well as the others," said Arya, she pressed forward. "If it does not trouble you, I'm here to speak to Queen Islanzadi for I have to report the events of the Varden since the battle."

He held her gaze for a moment before nodding, "As you wish, Arya Drottningu. I shall inquire after the queen if you will wait."

"I shall wait. You assistance is more welcome Dathedr-vor," said Arya as she watched him leave her line of vision. Dathedr had been one of her close friends before she'd left Du Weldenvarden to become her mother's only ambassador and though he had warned against it, he had blessed her a safe journey when it seemed that she was determined to take the yawe upon her shoulder and devote her life to her people.

A minute passed and then another trickled by. Arya was not bothered by the time it took for she had lived a century and understood the importance of patience unlike her mate did. Letting her eyes wonder from the water, they stopped on the glass orb that contained the white rose that he had given her during the Agaeti Blodhren. She had taken it with her from Ellesmera unable to leave it behind. Though it may have been the first flower he had given her it wasn't perfect but she appreciated it all the same.

The sound of ripping cloth or something akin to it drew her attention back to the water. The entrance flap of the tent flew open as her mother thrust it aside gliding towards the seeing glass with such grace that even she couldn't mirror. She wore a bright corselet or golden scale armor, augmented with mail and greaves and a beautifully decorated helm. A red cape trimmed with white billowed from her shoulders. When her mother's gaze fell upon her, she felt an ache in her heart from the seven decades that her mother had banned her from her presence. Though it was long ago and she had forgiven her mother, it still came back to haunt her every time she glanced upon her mother's imperious and regal demeanor. And the thought of her mother going to war as commander of the elven army worried her.

Arya touched her lips with her fingers and twisted her hand over her chest in a gesture of loyalty and respect before she greeted her mother first knowing that she stood above all. When they were done and Arya had opted to end it with the three line of the greeting did her mother bestow upon her a smile. "I'm relieved and glad to see that you are unharmed from the battle, Arya. It pained me to know that you would be fighting against such uneven odds. But it seems that my worries are for not."

"It heartens me mother to know that you were concerned for my welfare but as you said, I am well as is Eridor and my companions. You can put your worries to rest," reassured Arya, knowing all too well the pain in the knowledge of having a family member fight and risk their lives. "The fighting goes well here with the Varden and what of you?"

"The fighting has yet to start, daughter of mine," said Islanzadi as she gazed upon Arya, her own emerald eyes bright and deep with age and wisdom. "But it shall be soon. Our rangers have been watching the people of Ceunon for some time now. And we are massing along the western edge of Du Weldenvarden, where we shall prepare to siege the city at any moment's notice. It has been a long time since any elf besides you and your fallen companions—Faolin and Glenwing—have fought, Arya but we are prepared to aid the Varden in this endeavor even at the costs of our lives and the lives of those dear to us."

Arya bowed her head, "In that reason mother, I've come to understand long ago."

"Arya—" her mother spoke as if it pained her.

"No matter, mother, it is our duty," said Arya as she lifted her head to gaze at her mother once more. This time, Islanzadi's brows were lowered over her eyes as if she was facing a bright light that blinded her. She blinked once before her expression returned to an open display of concern and hesitant affection.

"It is our duty," her mother echoed her before she paved onward. "Now what of the report that you wanted to give me?"

"Ah, yes," with that said, she began to recount the events of the battle in detail to her mother who had seated herself in a high chair and listened with rapt attention. First Arya went to explain how Angela had poisoned a numerous amount of soldiers, and her mother having known the herbalist nodded commending her despite her own ideals about honest battle. Then she led into the Varden's preemptive strike which gave them the upper advantage at the opening stages of the battle and how it crippled the Empire's ranks significantly.

She explained how Nasuada and Orrin commanded the soldiers from where they fought. She spoke of how Eragon and Saphira charged the Empire's front lines without fear or concern over their own safety as they forced the Empire into their slow retreat. She recounted how she saw Murtagh, Thorn, and his guards deliver their own blows to their opponents never faltering despite their weariness and exhaustion. She proudly spoke of how Eridor had killed every opponent that they came across with fang or claw or simply fire. She spoke of how Roran and his village had arrived on ship and aided in the defeat of the Empire but destroying the tents of their commanders. She spoke of Eragon's servants and their great aid in protecting Nasuada and slewing the men of the Empire. And last of all she recounted the beast made of rotting flesh and the man named Jeremiah Asburg who commanded Galbatorix's army during that battle and how he was endowed with such great strength and magic despite being a human. By the time she was done, her mother wore an expression of concentration as well as faint disgust no doubt revolted at the thought of a beast created from the rotting flesh of animal or human.

"It would seem," he mother said finally after her report. "That many factors have come into play during your battle with the Empire."

"They have," agreed Arya, watching her mother closely.

"And what of the Varden now and Nasuada?"

"They're in the midst of burying their dead and reorganizing to continue their campaign to invade the Empire," Arya answered. Her mother nodded.

"And what of our riders? Murtagh and Eragon, what is it that they are doing?"

Arya frowned at the sound of Murtagh's name. He as well as Thorn and Roran had departed from the Varden the day after the fighting to fly to Helgrind to rescue Roran's betrothed, Katrina, from the Ra'zac. And though both she and Nasuada were against the idea, Murtagh was adamant in assisting his cousin and after Thorn's irritation with them and a hotly discussed meeting did Nasuada and Arya consent to his decision. Though it was foolish. Explaining it to her mother she watched as her eyes narrowed into a displeased look.

"A foolish quest," she said. "We can only trust in their skill and strength to return to the Varden unharmed."

"Yes,"

"And what of Eragon? Has he decided to partake in any foolhardy adventure as his half brother did?"

Arya shook her head, "He has stayed behind to help assist in healing the wounded and burying the dead, mother." Her gaze flickered to the white rose that stood on a wooden stand that she'd carved on her bedside table and back to her mother again.

"That is pleasing news," Arya nodded, her lips thinning as she thought of a way to tell her mother her personal decision involving Eragon.

Islanzadi's expression grew soft, as she gazed upon Arya, "And what of you Arya?"

"I—" she stopped unable to continue, not knowing how to start. Or where to start. Eventually she continued speaking. "I wish to tell you a decision of mine, mother."

"And pray tell, what is this decision that you wish to tell me?"

Taking in a deep breath and releasing it, she held her mother's gaze with a determine expression and said, "I've decided to take Eragon Shadeslayer as my mate for however long I shall feel affectionately for him."

If her mother had been displeased before, she was outright furious. Her face grew hard, her slanting eyes narrowed and her brows meeting dangerously. But despite her countenance, she spoke in a level tone, "Of all the foolish decisions you could make. You've decided to take him for a mate?"

Arya felt resistance well up in her as well as anger at her mother's statement. "It is not a foolish decision, mother. I've chosen Eragon."

"You chose wrong."

"I have not," denied Arya, her own expression resembling her mother's. "I've thought long and hard about it and I came to the decision that I wished to be with him, for my feelings for him are those beyond mere companionship."

"Your emotions are tinted with Eridor's own feelings for Saphira,"

"They are not!" she took in a deep breath trying to restrain herself from losing composure and started again. "I know well enough what Eridor feels and what I feel. I do not need your counsel on what my heart tells me, mother. Like I did not need your counsel seventy years ago in taking up my post as ambassador."

A flash of hurt came and went on her mother's expression as Arya held her gaze, neither of them backing down from their position. "You are young, Arya. As well as Eragon. You are an elf and he a human. Though your feelings for him may persist, his may not. And you know as well as I that humans change from one fancy to the other. In ten, no five years, his feelings for you can change. Or shall you ignore the story of the Menoa tree?"

Arya frowned, though she had thought of her mother's reason, she didn't let them bother her. "Eragon is more elf than human mother. And both he and I are riders, we shall always be with one another whether in duty or in personal matters. I know him well enough to understand that once he is set upon something, he will not relinquish it with ease."

"You are blinded, Arya!"

"As you are!" replied Arya in the same cutting tone her mother had used. "You've chosen father as your mate and I've chosen Eragon."

"Do not compare your father to Eragon," said Islanzadi dangerously. "Eragon is not fit to be your mate in knowledge, age, and health. He is ill Arya, he can be dangerous."

Her eyes narrowed giving her an evil look. Though she had wished not for her report with her mother to turn into a argument, it was unavoidable for they were both stubborn and each held different views than the other. "Be that as it may, I've still chosen to stand by him as his mate with or without your blessings, mother. I had thought you wished to see me happy."

Her mother's expression softened slightly, but only slightly, "I _do_ wish to see you happy, Arya. But I'm afraid you won't find that happiness in Eragon. Instead, you will find pain and hurt if you are to continue to be with him."

Arya frowned, before holding her head high, "I've decided mother and I do not wish to fight with you over my personal decision. Our own relationship is still healing do not let this tarnish it."

Her mother's emerald eyes burned as they gazed at her but she nodded stiffly, "Very well, you've decided to stand by your decision like you did seven decades ago, ignoring my counsel as you do now. And I've decided to stand by mine, do not regret what your stubbornness shall bring about you, daughter."

Arya's expression hardened, "I shall not regret it, Islanzadi Drottning."

Islanzadi stared at her for a moment her expression strained and hard, before nodding, "As you should, Arya Drottningu. I shall review what you've reported to me."

When it was clear that neither of them wished to say anymore, she bowed her head stiffly, "Farewell, Islanzadi Drottning." The image flickered and then the water returned to its clear surface as she ended the spell. Speaking with her mother had put her in a saddened and angered mood. She'd expected as much but it still hurt to know that he mother did not trust in her decision whether it was seventy years ago or presently.

_I shall always stand by you, Arya,_ Eridor's deep voice rumbled in his head from where he was next to Saphira on the Burning Plains, helping to dispose of bodies. She sighed as she went to sit on her cot, her feet bare as she drew up her knees resting her head on them.

_I know and I will always be grateful to you, _she replied her thoughts slightly saddened at the pain it caused her to argue with her mother. It had only been recently that they were able to be mother and daughter but now it was being tested again and it was causing their relationship another strain. _I had hoped that it would not go badly with my mother but it seems to have anyways._

_I'm sure that in time your mother will come to terms with your decision,_ said Eridor soothingly. _Do not let this bother you so._

She nodded again but was unable to keep the hurt she felt at bay. Closing her eyes, she sighed. _If you don't mind, Eridor. May I be left alone to my own thoughts for the moment?_

He was reluctant at her request but acquiesced. The silence that followed was both painful and soothing. She didn't know how long she sat on her cot thinking to herself but her mind often wandered back to the recent bloodshed and her argument with her mother. The sound of her tent flap being pushed aside warned her to the presence of another. She tensed ready to draw Tamerlein which laid beside where she sat. Until the familiar scent of fresh air and a musky odor drifted to her that was uniquely Eragon. Her muscles relaxed when she heard him lower himself onto her cot before her.

He didn't say anything but his presence was enough to calm her mind and ease her hurt. Like it was when she was captured in Gil'ead, she had always felt safe with him beside her. Now was no different. She smiled humorlessly to herself, Eridor must have sent him to watch over her. After a moment, she heard him unlace his boots before tossing them to the side as if making himself comfortable on her cot. "And here I though you would be using your time wisely to sleep, I would."

Of all the things he could say, she didn't expect this. Amusement fought its way to the surface as she let out a soft snort. A minute passed before she felt his fingers tracing the skin on her feet, curious as to what he was doing, she lifted her head to gaze at him. But he was staring down at her feet instead. "You have rather small feet." Eragon stated. She waited for him to continue. "It's rather odd to realize that for a warrior such as yourself, you have a petite stature."

She tilted her head to stare at him, "I beg your pardon?"

He lifted his head to gaze at her with a faint grin, his brown eyes shining. A wave of emotions swept through her as she held his stare. "You may not see it, but I do. Though you are extraordinarily beautiful and slender, you are also a fearful warrior and dragon rider. It gives you an intimidating aura. As well as a deceptive appearance."

"I see," said Arya as she let his explanation run through her mind.

He nodded, before bringing up his own feet which were by far larger than hers for he was of a taller build and height. "I would say my feet are twice the size of yours." He said placing his left foot beside her right and his right beside her left.

She laughed lightly at his statement and reached down to trace an elegant finger over the skin of his feet. His toes wiggled in response to her touch and he swatted her hand away lightly, "That tickles."

"An odd place to feel ticklish."

"I merely have sensitive feet,"

"Hmm…" Arya stopped, facing him again. "Have you finished with your duties?"

He made an apologetic face, slightly contrite and slightly annoyed, "Rosalie has agreed to help me and I couldn't stand the smell of the carnage anymore. I never realized that my nose was quite that sensitive until I had to carry corpses here and there either to burn or to bury. It's grueling work."

"That it is,"

His expression softened somewhat as he reached out to grip one of her hands in his, "I heard from Eridor about what has transpired between you and Queen Islanzadi. I apologize." She would have been glad if he didn't bring up the subject but he did and there was no use in avoiding it.

"There is nothing for you to apologize for Eragon," she sighed tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It was my decision to make."

"Still, I did not wish for our union to upset your mother," he said as he rubbed the pad of his thumb across the skin of her hand.

"It was bound to happen," said Arya accepting the inevitable, "My mother has always thought that she knew best what I should do in life but I'd refused to acknowledge her counsel for I believe that it is I who know best to live my life."

"As it should be."

"If only it was," she frowned when Eragon released her hand to stand. Following his movements with her eyes, she watched as he slightly stretched before moving to sit beside her instead of before her on her cot. She raised a brow at his slight change in position. "How is that any different than sitting before me?"

"There's a difference, though I enjoy admiring your beauty," he reached forward with his hand bringing her face to him. "I can't reach you as easily." With that said; he bent in and kissed her. She willingly obliged, the last remnants of her argument with her mother slowly fading from her mind as she focused on the pressure Eragon's lips was creating on her own, a warm heat suffusing her body. Letting her hand glide up his arm, his shoulder, and his neck she gently intertwined her fingers in his chestnut hair, keeping him in place as she moved forward slightly.

Almost accidentally, she found herself sitting on his lap with his arm curled around her back. It was an intimate position but after all of the bloodshed recently, she didn't mind for she desired such contact. His other hand rested lightly on her leather clothed knee, content where it was. Though it was Eragon who initiated the kiss, she craved it. With her tongue she pried open his lips and glided her tongue over his teeth and mouth, tasting him like she often did in their time alone when they could manage it. His response to her heated action was just as passionate as his tongue darted out to meet hers. This was a battle different from the one that they had recently fought but just as fierce and passionate. They would break apart for air and then either with a tug of her hand or a pull of his; they would come back together again. Never before in her life had she felt such an intense desire to be with someone, to taste them, and touch them. _How dare her mother tell her she was wrong in choosing Eragon. _She thought in the recess of her mind but that thought was soon forgotten when Eragon tilted his head slightly allowing her more access to explore his mouth. After a moment, he pulled away from her and she instinctively gasped missing his warmth. Instead he lowered his lips to the base of her neck. She tilted her head back slightly into Eragon's hand that had reached up to cup the back of her head. His tongue lavished his attention on the soft skin there and when his tongue wasn't busy tasting her skin, his teeth was nibbling on it. And it was during this time period that she allowed herself to fully let go of all pretense. When a low sound escaped her lips that was akin to a moan, normally she would never let a sound like that escape but it seemed to send a jolt through Eragon for he would shiver pleasantly when he heard the sound.

Letting him continue to devote his attention to her neck she let herself be lost in his touch and kisses. Much later with Eragon sprawled out on top of her, their lips moving over one another, did she pull away. Trying to sort out her muddled thoughts, she took in a deep breath to calm her racing heart. She heard Eragon let out a breath above her as he bent down to rest his head on her shoulder. Her fingers which was curled in his hair gently messaged his scalp. He murmured something but it was muffled by his head pressed against her shoulder.

Her mind slightly cleared, her question came out somewhat breathy, "What was that Eragon?"

He lifted his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers. "You smell wonderful."

She laughed at his odd statement, "As do you."

"Really?" Curiosity was evident on his expression as he gazed down at her. "I never thought I did."

She nodded and lifted her head slightly to breathe in his scent. "You do."

"At least I know that I do not reek like most do,"

"If you were to reek of sweat and filth, I would not allow you into such a position." Arya said lightly. He glanced down at her with amusement.

"You aren't needed elsewhere are you?"

She blinked taking a moment to process his question before she shook her head, "Not that I know of. And you?"

"Trianna and Du Vrangr Gata can do without me for a day, after all they've led themselves without my leadership before."

Arya nodded, as she brought Eragon's head down towards hers, her lips parting over his as she whispered, "Yes, Trianna can do without you for a day." He murmured a reply but her hearing, as enhanced as it was, lost the words in their passionate kiss.

Returning her attention to Eragon, she felt a sense of happiness wash over her that she had felt scarcely in her life since she'd left Ellesmera and the lush trees of Du Weldenvarden as ambassador to her mother. And then when Faolin and Glenwing had fallen from Durza's ambush, she had thought she could never feel happiness again. But Eragon had brought her happiness. Smiling against his lips, she fought his tongue for control in their intimate battle all the while her heart rapidly beating in her chest, both light and heavy at the same time. This was happiness.

**I hope you all liked this chapter. As always when it comes to Arya and her mother, I always have to use my best guess on their characters to portray their interactions as close to CP as I can get. But it was a good chapter and a fun one to write. Anyways, Happy Early New Years again everyone! See you next chapter and maybe next year!**


	46. Chapter 41

**Ah well, tomorrow is my dads' birthday and I've been feeling really happy lately with all of the birthdays and the holiday cheers. So might as well upload this filler chapter (it has some CP in it and I always cringe everytime I have to use some of CP's work. This chapter and the next one will have his works in it before I can start building up the plot even more so). Anyways, I went shopping with my other three sisters for a gift for my dad and we've all decided to buy him a separate gift before chipping in for a shared one. Not everyone turns 62 years old twice! (lol). So it's been a big family thing. I mean my nephews are all coming over so this is going to be a very LOUD holiday...Anyways, Happy Reading! (Oh, I'm sorry about the confusion of my last A/N. I just meant I might not update another chapter before the New Years, not that I'm abandoning this story after I've gotten so far with it. So rest at ease!)**

Lacing up his boots, Eragon rolled his shoulders lightly trying to work out the stiffness in his shoulders. It had been almost a week since the massive battle on the Burning Plains and already, Nasuada had managed to move the Varden's camp several leagues down the Jiet River. But she didn't dare move them any further without Murtagh's presence. His half brother and his cousin Roran were still within the Empire's borders no doubt at Helgrind ready to rescue Roran's betrothed.

Standing, he strapped his only sword onto his left hip. Though the other was broken in his fight with Jeremiah, he did not mind for he could also fight with one sword. Lately ever since the battle, his right eye had been feeling rather odd as well as his heart. And he always felt restless as if there was a noise beside him that wouldn't go out. No matter how much time he spent flying with Saphira, carrying out orders for Nasuada, or spending time with Arya, he could do nothing to stop it.

And it made him slightly uneasy. Eragon moved the flap to his tent back squinting as the bright sunlight made him squint his eyes. After adjusting to it, he turned to find Saphira still curled up and sleeping beside Eridor. He was sure that they two of them did more than just hunt game last night. Not bothering to disturb them, he made his way towards his mother's tent. As he rounded the corner to his parents' tent he was surprised to find that it was empty. _Where had everyone gone to?_

Frowning, he reached out with his mind to search for his servants it took a while until he found them. They were towards the outskirts of the Varden's camp. Veering towards his thoughts, he was surprised to come across the separate camp that the villagers of Carvahall had set up. Ever since he'd met Roran, he made no attempt to converse with the villagers. Today, however, that would no doubt change. Walking through their tents and camps, he ignored the stares of curiosity and distrust that he received and angled towards the faint sound of his mother's voice.

He found her and his father sitting amongst a group of villagers from Carvahall with Finny and Bard standing guard about the gathering and Rosalie hovering about his mother, ready to do what she asked. Finny was the first to see Eragon and as always a bright smile came to his features, "Lord Eragon!" he exclaimed, "Good morning."

"To you as well, Finny," he replied in kind as he neared, the villagers stopped talking at his appearance, and his mother with her swollen belly turned slightly in her seat. Her expression was bright despite the tiredness of her stature.

"Eragon," he smiled at his mother, glad to see her well. But as he did so, his eyes darted to Rosalie. She nodded her answer to his unasked question. Was his mother healthy and well? Put at ease, he walked forward and bent slightly to allow her to kiss his cheek in motherly affection. "Are you not busy with your duties?"

"I wanted to visit you before I leave for Nasuada's pavilion," said Eragon ignoring the slight whisperings about them. "I trust that Rosalie and the others are taking good care of you, mother?"

"That they are," she smiled. "But you already know that don't you?"

"I do," he agreed. He straightened. "Seeing as you are well, I can leave to attend to my duties."

She frowned but nodded. "Will you come by later for dinner?"

"Of course," he gave her another smile, glad to be able to speak to her freely and without barriers. It was a heartwarming experience. As he turned he nodded to his father who tentatively smiled at him. It was slowly progressing; his relationship with his father, but it was better than he had hoped. Now, he could speak and dine with him without avoiding his eyes contact most of the time. Feeling at ease, he turned and began to walk towards Nasuada's pavilion.

It took him barely twenty minutes to make it there with his quick strides. For some reason, lately he'd been worried for his mother for her pregnancy seemed to be approaching its end. Or that was what he thought. He was not surprised to find outside Nasuada's tent, six of her guards that composed the Nighthawks. Two members of each race, Urgal, dwarf, and human and though they were assigned the duty to guard Nasuada, he could tell that the presence of the Urgal created some hostilities amongst the four others.

He stopped before the tent, sensing Nasuada as well as a few others already gathered inside. One of the guards, a human stepped forward to address him, his expression one of respect and admiration. "Hail Shadeslayer!" he said with a salute, "May I as inquire to your visit?"

"Lady Nasuada has asked for me to visit her once morning has come and I've come as asked," said Eragon, not minding the procedures to enter her command tent. The warrior nodded, relaying the message to Nasuada and after her approval, he was granted entrance.

Striding forward, he swiftly pushed the flap to the tent aside and was surprised to find Nasuada speaking rather calmly though he could see that she was clearly irritated to a tall, high-nosed, black-skinned man. He was dressed to show his wealth. For on his forearms were gold bangles, a breastplate of armored gold covered his chest, and long, thick chains of gold hung around his neck, disks of white gold stretched the lobes of his ears, and upon the top of his head rested a resplendent gold crown. His men were garbed in the same manner.

Eragon moved forward, his left hand resting on the pommel of his only sword. Once Nasuada caught sight of him, relief seemed to ease her rigid stature. She beckoned him forward, when he stopped beside the tall, dark-skinned man, Eragon bowed to her before straightening. "My lady, I've come as you've asked," his eyes darted from Nasuada to her audience. "Am I interrupting a conference of yours?"

"No, not at all," She motioned to him, "Eragon this is warlord Fadawar. And Fadawar, this is Eragon Shadeslayer, my vassal, I'm sure you and your tribe have heard of him."

"That we have," Fadawar inclined his head to Eragon. Instead of bowing, Eragon murmured his greetings before making his way to stand at Nasuada's right hand. He could tell that Fadawar was displeased at his greeting while Nasuada was restraining a pleased smile.

"Now, let us continue our discussion, Fadawar," said Nasuada, her voice ringing with echoes of authority. Eragon kept his eyes trained on the tribesmen and Fadawar in case they were to make a foul move.

"I've asked you to aid the Varden and yet you refused and now you stand before me asking for boons and favors that not enough my highest commanders are privileged to. How then, do you intend to earn these rights? You cannot pay with warriors; your men already fight for me, whether in the Varden or in King Orrin's army. Be content with what you have, Warlord and do not seek more that is rightfully yours."

"You twist the truth to suit your own selfish goals. I seek what is rightfully ours! That is why I am here. You talk and you talk, yet your words are meaningless, for by your actions, you have betrayed us," Eragon frowned, his gripping on the pommel of his sword tightening as he caught onto what Fadawar was trying to breach. He caught Nasuada's eye, she shook her head slightly. His frown deepened but he did not move against the man or his tribesmen but stood and waited for her orders. "You admit we are your people. Then do you still follow our customs and worship our gods?"

He watched as Nasuada pondered the warlord's question before she nodded, her lips set into a thin line as if she'd eaten a distasteful fruit, "I do."

"Then I say that you are unfit to lead the Varden, and as is my right, I challenge you to the Trial of the Long Knives. If you are triumphant, we shall bow to you and never again question your authority. But if you lose, then you shall step aside, and I shall take your place as head of the Varden." Eragon narrowed his eyes as he beheld Fadawar. He had not expected another piece to enter the game that they played. How was Nasuada going to answer?

"Perhaps I am mistaken, but I thought it was tradition that whoever won assumed command of his rival's tribes, as well as his own. Is that not so?" she said, unable to help himself he let out a light chuckle at the expression of dismay that flashed across Fadawar's face.

"It is."

"Then I accept your challenge, with the understanding that should I win, your crown and scepter will be mine. Are we agreed?"

He scowled but agreed and Eragon watched as the two prepared for the challenge. She had summoned her maid, Farica to help her out of her dress. After some reluctance on her maid's part, Nasuada soon stood almost naked in her white chemise before the warriors, who examined her slender body. Eragon frowned and feeling that it was his duty stepped forward to gain their attention instead. Nasuada's gratitude was not masked.

Soon enough the arrival of King Orrin, Jormundur, Trianna, and Naako and Ramusewa were announced and Nasuada's pavilion was filled with people. Too many for Eragon to feel comfortable, especially with his liege lord in such an open state.

As Nasuada explained the circumstance that she'd summoned them to the tent, the mood in the pavilion grew ever somber as Orrin was infuriated by her decision and Jormundur quite dismayed. Before they could start, however Eragon cleared his throat turning to Nasuada, his face set on her own, "My lady, may I not take your place in this trial? You are my liege lord and I do not feel that it is right for you to put yourself in harm's way."

King Orrin nodded, "Yes, it would not be as dangerous if Eragon were to accept the Trial of the Long Knives, Nasuada. As your vassal it is his duty to ensure our safety."

She shook her head, regarding Eragon with a determined expression, "No, I shall participate and I alone for it is tradition. You as well as everyone else gathered here today shall bear witness."

He bowed his head, stepping back but remaining close to her right hand, "I shall bear witness, my lady."

It was a barbaric tradition, Eragon thought as he stood listening to the drums of Fadawar's warriors as both Nasuada and the warlord gripped their knives, holding it steady before their forearms. Fadawar was the first to slice his arm open, blood spilling out from the cut. Almost immediately, Eragon felt sick, his right eye burning. He blinked, lightly shaking his head to rid himself of the feeling. Then Nasuada split the skin on her arm, her own blood dripping to the ground. His heat began to beat in rhythm to the drums, his skin crawling. Another slash across skin and more blood. His node was filled with the scent of the crimson liquid.

_Slash._

_Drip._

_Slash._

_Drip._

_Slash. Drip. Slash. Drip. Slash. Drip._

By the fifth cut, pools of blood was gathered at the feet of Nasuada and Fadawar. If the bleeding were to continue either both or one of them would die from blood lost. He was sure of it. But he was having his own trouble. His body wanted to reached forward and wield the knives, to cut through flesh, to taste the blood. The thirst of his blood lust made his body burn so fiercely it felt as if he was on fire. It felt as if his mind was stifled by a blanket and his heart beating so fast it was about to give out. His hand that gripped the pommel of his sword tightened as Fadawar made his sixth cut. He watched as a new stream of blood transverse the length of his dark-skinned arm before adding to the pool of blood he stood in.

Nasuada regarded Fadawar with a half-crazed, half-delusional expression as she added one—two—more cuts to her own making it a total of seven cuts. His arm subconsciously pulled his sword a few inches from its sheath but it went unnoticed for everyone was focusing intently on Nasuada and Fadawar. He could kill them all with mere seconds. Not one would be able to cry out for help. Eyes dilated in as he regarded the pools of crimson on the pavilion ground and the smell of blood in the air, he was about to draw his sword before Fadawar cried out, "I submit!"

The drums stopped.

Almost immediately, Eragon came to himself. Slightly panting, he slid his sword back fully into its sheath, feeling a sheen of sweat cover his body, and his heart calm. What was that? He shook his head and instead turned his gaze to the trial before him. Nasuada had won. Trying to shake off the feeling of blood thirst, he approached Nasuada and guided her to her chair in which she sunk into, and from her expression he could tell that she was ready to faint from the pain of her cuts.

"My lady let me heal you of your wounds," said Eragon reaching for his magic in the recess of his mind.

She didn't open her eyes, but waited for Fadawar and his men to retreat before she spoke again, her tone one of determination. "No."

He frowned, as well as the others while Farica went to bandage her wound, before they bled anymore. "The Trial of Long Knives requires participants to allow their wounds to heal at their natural pace. Otherwise, we won't have experienced the full measure of pain the trial entails. If I violate the rule, Fadawar will be declared the victor."

Knowing that her mind was set, Eragon drew to his full height and turned to face the others, "I'm afraid we have to consent to my lady's term. Let us leave her in peace to recover from her wounds. It would do her harm otherwise if we were to pester her with our concerns and judgment." Trianna left without a word by now used to taking his orders while it was harder for King Orrin to comply. After a moment did the king finally turn tail to leave. Jormundur, however, insisted to stay by Nasuada's side and Eragon agreed worried for her welfare as he too took his leave ready to be gone of the pools of blood and the stench of it as it clung to the air in the pavilion.

He immediately returned to his own tent, washing his face with water, cursing as his hands shook. That had proved it, ever since the battle over the Burning Plains and him accepting the help of the spirit that resided in his body, the seal in his right eye began to grow weak, its magic broken. And the fact that he was constantly surrounded by bloodshed and pain now, it was losing its power as the spirit became stronger. He had almost killed Nasuada and the others. If it had continued, he growled angered with himself beyond words. _No! _He wasn't going to allow the thought to cross his mind. Falling onto his cot, he let his head fall in his hands. And he sat there ashamed of himself and his emotions during the Trial of the Long Knives. Hours passed and night fell then day rose. He didn't feel like him anymore and he was afraid…

_What is it little one? _Saphira's thoughts washed over him despite the fact that she was halfway across the camp. It was clear and lucid and filled with concern. _Shall I contact Arya?_

_No, she doesn't have to worry over me needlessly, _he sighed lifting his head as he ruffled his hair, suddenly feeling tired. _I don't know what to do anymore, Saphira. If this persists…what will happen to me? To you?_

_I do not know, Eragon. But we cannot give up hope, if the dragons could prolong your ailment, there must be another way to save you. _Her thoughts wavered before strengthening. _We must take your soul back from Jeremiah._

_How? He's probably at Uru'baen already, and even then how am I supposed to retrieve my soul? Will the seal last that long? _A wave of sadness washed over him. He didn't want this to happen. He and Arya were mates, his relationship was his mother had bettered, and he was slowly opening up to his father. He didn't want to lose them. A pang of hurt filled his heart so vast that Saphira withdrew somewhat from his mind.

_I'm finally living for myself…and yet…_He was unable to continue that train of thought. Eventually Saphira reached out to him again when his emotions finally abated, leaving behind a dull ache. _Thorn and Murtagh are approaching from the northeast, Eragon. Will you come?_

With nothing else to do, he nodded, standing, _I shall._

Leaving his tent again, he made in to direction that Saphira said, and no doubt as he neared the clearing that Nasuada had set aside for the dragons to land and take off. Nasuada was already there with Angela and Elva as well as others who came out to welcome Murtagh and Thorn back to the Varden. Eragon's eyes were focused north where he found Thorn descending thence. He appeared like a cluster of falling meteors from the heavens.

He made his way towards Nasuada stopping before her with a slight bow, glad to see that she was well. "I'm relieved to see that you are well, my lady. Though it saddens me to see that the price for your strength are these wounds," he gestured towards her bandaged arm.

"Thank you, Eragon," she bestowed upon him a smile. "Are you well, Eragon? You seem rather pale."

"I'm better than you," he turned feeling Arya's presence approaching. Indeed she was, she moved with a slinking, muscular grace that bespoke her skill with a blade, and also her supernatural strength. As always she was dressed in all black, Tamerlein on her hip, and a bow and quiver on her back. Her skin was the color of light honey, and from experience, it tasted much sweeter than honey.

She smiled at Eragon when she caught sight of him but it faltered somewhat. He frowned. Did he look that bad? Ever since her argument with her mother, he tried to lighten her burden by keeping most of his problems to himself. Arya gave stopped before him for a moment reaching up to caress his face, before kissing him lightly. Then she continued to Nasuada halting before her, Eragon following. Her presence always soothed his mind.

Arya gestured with on elegant finger at Nasuada's wounds. "As the poet Earne said, to place yourself in harm's way for the sake of your people and the country you love is the finest thing one can do. I have known every leader of the Varden, and they were all might men and women, and none so much as Ajihad. In this, though, I believe you have surpassed even him."

"You honor me, Arya, but I fear that if I burn so brightly, too few shall remember my father as he deserves."

"The deeds of the children are a testament of the upbringing they received from their parents. Burn like the Sun, Nasuada, for the brighter you burn, the more people there shall be who will respect Ajihad for teaching you how to bear the responsibilities of command at such a tender age."

Eragon smiled slightly, for he was younger than Nasuada. If she was at a tender age, he couldn't image the word to describe his own age. _Youngling? _Saphira supplied as she and Eridor landed on the clearing shaking the ground slightly.

_I wouldn't like to think of it as that, _Eragon thought.

Nasuada smiled and said, "A tender age? I'm a grown woman, by our reckoning."

Amusement gleamed in Arya's green eyes, "True. But if we judge by years, and not by wisdom, no human would be considered an adult among my kind. Except for Galbatorix, that is."

"And me," Angela chimed in. Eragon glanced at the herbalist, his curiosity piqued.

"Then how old are you? A century or two, old enough to be my great grandfather's grandfather?" asked Eragon with a slight smile. Angela frowned at him while Nasuada fought her own smile and Arya stared at him in humor. Elva was even humored.

"To think you would learn some manners by being Arya's mate," she said with narrowed eyes. "It seems that you have much to teach him," this she said to Arya.

The elf inclined her head, not refuting Angela's advice, "It would seem so."

Eragon raised a brow, "In what do I need to learn?"

"That the first thing you should always avoid when talking to women is their age!" said Angela indignantly. Eragon nodded, moving to stand behind Arya, he remembered vividly that she had clubbed Murtagh over the head with a mallard. Which was rather odd but amusing in its own right. He reached down and gently gripped her hand bending down slightly to inhale her scent.

Just then, he heard Elva murmur, "Murtagh's not on Thorn."

Alarm shot through him as he glanced upward at the ruby dragon that circled above them ready to land. "How do you know?" Nasuada asked, keeping her voice low.

"I cannot feel his discomfort, nor his fears. Roran is there, and a woman I guess is Katina. No one else."

Straightening, Nasuada turned to Eragon, "Clear the field, Eragon! Get everyone away from here before Thorn lands."

"Including Orrin, Narheim, and Garzhvog?"

She grimaced, "No, but allow no one else to remain. Hurry!"

Doing as he was told he left them and began shouting orders to the onlookers that had gathered in the clearing. It didn't take long for them to clear out despite their protests, some Eragon had to threaten to flog if they didn't take their leave. Once done, they converged upon Nasuada, questions on their lips.

Just as the last stragglers left the clearing, a torrent of air rushed across them as Thorn swooped to the ground, raking his wings to slow himself before alighting on his rear legs. He dropped to all fours, and a dull boom resounded across the camp. Unbuckling themselves from his saddle, Roran and Katrina quickly dismounted.

Eragon as well as the others studied Katrina, she was attractive enough but not what he would consider a great beauty. Standing next to Arya, her beauty paled in comparison. Then again, he was bias. Though he must admit, he admired the fact that she faced the sight of an eight and a half foot tall Urgal, and three dragons bearing down at her without so much as a flinch.

Roran bowed to Nasuada as well as King Orrin. "My Lady," he said, his face grew grave, "Your Majesty. If I may, this is my betrothed, Katrina." She curtsied to both of them.

Feeling a pressure against his mind, Eragon immediately recognized it as Arya's. Lowering his barriers, his eyes remained on the couple before him but his thoughts were diverted. He had rarely been in contact with Arya's mind, but it was strange and yet familiar. The eerie melody that floated through her thoughts entranced him and lyrics of her blood captivated him. _Is something wrong? _Eragon asked.

_I thought it would be best to tell you my plan before I carry it out._

_Plan? _This time his eyes darted to meet Arya's before returning to Roran and Katrina.

_It is a reckless one, but much needed if we are to see Murtagh return to the Varden without harm. He may be a rider but he is wandering in the mist of the Empire where thousands hunt him, he is not safe, _she said.

_That may be true, but what is this plan that you speak of? Murtagh has no doubt left Helgrind and is venturing on his own. It would be nigh impossible to find him. Like a needle in a hay stack._

_Even so…_She briefly and hurriedly explained her thought process to him. He frowned not agreeing with her on any grounds but knowing that they may indeed have to resort to it.

He shifted when Thorn spoke of Murtagh's decision to stay behind in the Empire. And instead of words, with their consent, he opted to show him his memory of the event. His reasons for staying Eragon thought were inadequate but he knew that it was not the entire truth. There must be another reason why he decided to leave Thorn to travel back to the Varden while he remained in Galbatorix's vast territory. He sighed, _then let us go with your plan, Arya._

Arya knelt and began to unlace and retie the upright section of her boots. Holding one of the cords between her teeth, Arya said, "Thorn, where exactly was Murtagh when you touched his mind?"

_In the entrance to Helgrind._

"And you have any idea what path he intended to follow?"

_He did not yet know himself._

Springing to her feet, Arya unstrapped Tamerlein from her hip and retrieved her bow and quiver from her back before pressing her weapons into Eragon's open hands, as well as a brief kiss to his lips despite the audience that they had before them. _Good luck and travel swiftly, _Eragon said to her in the depths of his mind. "Then I shall have to look everywhere I can."

Like a deer, she bounded forward and ran across the clearing, her last thoughts reaching Eragon before she withdrew her mind, _I'll return with Murtagh. Do not worry. _She vanished among the tents as Eridor, who was kept out from her mind realized her intentions as she sped northward as fast and light as the wind itself.

He felt the dragons mind pierce his own and he could see everyone flinch as they too felt Eridor's thoughts weighing down on them, _Arya, no! _Letting out a roar, Eridor seemed ready to take flight after her, but Saphira as quick and strong as she was knocked him to the side with her tail. In response, the emerald dragon snapped at her, bearing his fangs. That was the first time he'd seen Eridor so upset, usually the emerald dragon held a calm composure as his rider did.

When he made to pounce on Saphira, she easily overpowered him, knocking him to the ground and holding him there with her paws until a low keen escaped him. Eragon felt his own sadness burst forth as he thought of Arya within Galbatorix's reach. Walking forward, he gently stroked Eridor's snout as the dragon snuffled in his anguish.

_We'll have to trust that Arya will return to us with Murtagh, Eridor, _Eragon said to the dragon in hopes to soothe him.

Eridor snuffled again causing Saphira to reach down and gently nuzzle his snout with hers. She would help him through his pain. His eyes darted back to where Arya had disappeared, feeling his loneliness return.

**I never told you how I sprained my hand did I? Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to say it. For all of my life I had never sprained or broken any bone in my body until that faithful day. And as you all know I was somewhat tipsy (lies, I was way over my head) and my sisters and I had decided to play a game of twister together. And being the idiots that we were despite the fact that we're all in college, I literally twisted my hand when I had to reach for one of the yellow dots. It was not a fun moment. But that's the story and now you all know. I'll see you next time! Maybe tomorrow or next year!**


	47. Chapter 42

**I said I might not be able to update tonight but I guess I was wrong :p. All morning my family was getting the big party ready for my parents and for New Years. Everyones been in and out in frantic attitudes. You can't imagine the chaos that happened. It was a very painful ordeal. Especially when my eldest sister insisted that we all go polish ourselves up in a beauty parlor. I hate oil rubdowns. They are just so icky. Anyways, this chapter is slightly canon as well and the next chapter shall fully explain the full effect to Arya leaving...But I might hold back on that one since I've been updating none stop for the last week or since christmas to be exact.**

Her nose scrunched up in disgust as she passed a group of dirt covered soldiers who held such a foul stench of sweat and filth that she had to slow her pace to ease her own discomfort. She frowned, she had been traveling for two days now in search for Murtagh. And as much as she relied on her own instincts and her knowledge of Murtagh, she had to predict in which route he would take back to the Varden. And her guess wasn't far off for it put her in forty miles west of a small village called Eastcroft. From there she had reached out with her mind to the plants and animals and true enough she gleaned through the minds the presence of a rider.

Keeping to the road, she berated herself for not just simply traveling off of it. Groups of travelers increased by the numbers and most often she caught herself in the presence of soldiers and patrols. Tugging her hood lower to cover her face, she wished she didn't have to wear the forest green dress that she did. But after a rather unfortunate event with a pair of ox herders, who had blatantly questioned her leather clothing, she was forced into the dress.

_Eragon would no doubt laugh at me if he saw me now, _she thought with a slight hint of amusement. As she walked, she felt the urge to touch her face every now and then for the muscle was not in its norm position. Instead she had used magic to shift and alter her appearance into that of a human's and she had also rounded the tip of her ears. And though she may look human her beauty was still too noticeable and she did not want to attract the stares of males. It irked her to no end. Soon night began to fall and though she would've preferred to find a quiet place to rest outside of the village, the fact that a patrol was behind her forced her into the village which seemed prepared for a siege.

Moving through the village, she located the wayfarer's house. _Resting here will have to do and if fortune smiles upon me, Murtagh will no doubt be forced here. _The common room had a low ceiling with tar-stained timbers. Yellow candles light the room with layers of smoke while sand and rushes covered the floor. Her eyes scanned the room, a good sixty people filled it, the smell of their sweat irritating her slightly.

Arya searched for the mistress of the cavern, succeeding when she picked out a sturdy middle aged woman with her tied back in a bun, some strands falling from the arrangement. She approached her silently and tapped her on the shoulder. The woman did not seem startled but turned to face her, "May I help you?"

"I would like to rent a room for the night," reaching under her cloak, she pulled out a bag of crowns that she had taken from a group of unknowing soldiers when they weren't paying attention. And though she didn't like to partake in thievery, it was necessary. The woman, as Arya predicted obliged and produced an iron key in which she handed to her. She left but not before explaining to Arya the location of her rented room. Taking it, she tucked it away in her sleeved before finding a secluded corner to sit and wait, Murtagh would likely enter Eastcroft and if so, he would be forced to the wayfarer's house. She took a seat at a table pushed against a wall, it was out of the way and hopefully no one would bother her.

Her hope was sorely dismissed when a group of four drunkards, famers by the looks of it, spotted her. They sauntered over and greeted her, the alcohol in their breaths evident. She spared them a glance before returning to staring at the table before her. Two of them leaned on the wall on either side of her, cornering her in, one sat in a chair turned backwards grinning while the other placed his foot on the edge of the table, bending forward over his knee.

"What do we have here?" the largest one said, his voice low. "A lone woman?"

"No more," said Arya dryly. Though she had managed to shift her appearance, she was unable to disguise her voice. And it came out as lilting as music, which seem to further their interest in her. If worst came to worst, she might have to kill them if they made any unwanted advances. And that would be another misfortune.

"Let us keep you company," the one to her right said with a laugh as if the idea was humorous to him. Her eyes narrowed but they didn't see her displeasure at being addressed so for her face was covered with a hood.

She had always disliked being the presence of drunkards, especially when they were males and humans, for they seem to forget the code of mannerism and say the rudest and most offending things to her. Though when she first joined the Varden, many had approached her with sighs of affection and tried to woo her, within time they'd began to learn not to do so anymore. If only the same could be said for these men. They were big, beefy farmers with leathery necks and cheeks flushed with the fever of alcohol.

None came close to the fair features that Eragon had. He had a slim but powerful build, and she knew that he would stand taller than the men before her, if not by a few inches. Their hair was dirty and hoarse and from experience, she knew that her mate possessed soft chestnut hair. And though Eragon was not perfect in elven terms, Arya was content being with him and being surrounded by these farmers just reinforced the fact even more.

"Now, now, Alfred, let's not get carried away," said the one with his foot propped up on the edge of the table. "We wouldn't want to frighten our female companion."

Alfred just merely laughed again, "You can't help it that a man is needy, Thresh."

Thresh turned back to her, "So tell me, what is it that you are doing here in the wayfarer's house? It's uncommon to see a woman traveling without the company of her father, brother, or husband, especially in dark times such as this. Are you lost?"

She refrained from ignoring the men for it would only cause to anger them in their drunken state, the only thing she could do was entertain them with conversation and send them on their way. "Lost? None so much, I'm just merely traveling and happen to stumble upon Eastcroft when night fell. And this was the only place in which I can rest without fear of the dangers of the dark."

Arya felt distaste color her thoughts at her answer. She did not fear resting in nature, for she found it much more comforting than being in the village at the moment. "Traveling? Where to?" The man on her left questioned.

That she did not answer which didn't seem to bother them, instead they moved onto different topics. They spoke to her, gesturing carelessly as if to make themselves appear strong and proud in her presence. "With the Varden's appearance and those wretched riders, us farmers have lost our crops to the king's men. Honest farmers like us have a hard time in making good harvest before the winter comes," the man to her left, Lars she'd learned, said.

"Honest farmers? I do not think that honest farmers will wallow in their sorrow with the use of drinks and spirits. If you're worried about your livelihood, than you are merely wasting your time in a place such as this," said Arya. Her response angered them, for they scowled and swelled their chests, puffing themselves up like roosters. One of them shook a finger at her.

She ignored them. It seemed that her patience had worn thin with them. She couldn't find it in herself to continue speaking to them politely anymore. The man to her left suddenly reached down and hooked a finger underneath the edge of her hood, as if to toss it back. Quicker than what was natural, she gripped his wrist with her right hand, but then after a moment, released it and returned to her previous position. If she threw him off of her, it would be unseemly and they would no doubt suspect her strength. Her hood collapsed around her neck, revealing her features to the men.

They were stunned for lack of a better word. None had expected her beauty and she could tell from the wanton desire on their face that they were entranced like most men she came across. Their expressions reminded her of another's, causing a pleasant heat to suffuse her body, unknowingly to them. Suddenly, she felt a familiar consciousness touch hers; dealing the person a mental blow, she easily destroyed his concentration, _Murtagh!_

_Arya?_

Their eyes met for a moment before the crowd thickened again and hid him from her view. She stayed where she was, trusting that Murtagh would come to her. He did. When he emerged from the press to where she sat, the farmers about her looked at him askance. "You're awful rude, barging in on us uninvited-like. Best make yourself scarce, eh?"

He was dressed as Arya observed in clothing that wouldn't be spotted in a crowd. "It seems to me, gentlemen, that the lady would rather be left alone. Now, you wouldn't ignore the wishes of an honest woman, would you?"

She felt like snorting when she heard the word honest, for had it not been her who criticized the farmers and their own honesty? "An honest woman?" laughed Alfred. "No honest woman travels alone."

"Then let me set your concerns to rest, for I am her brother, and we are going to live with our uncle in Dras-Leona."

The four men exchanged uneasy glances. Three of them began to edge away from Arya to her pleasure. But there must always be one dissenter, it seemed. The largest of them planted himself before Murtagh and said, "I'm not sure I believe you, _friend. _You're just trying to drive us away so you can be with her yourself."

After a few more words, some more forceful than others did they finally saunter away towards the bar, though not without shooting some longing glances back her which she pointed ignored. Murtagh slipped behind the table to sit next to her. "What are you doing here?" he asked, barely moving his lips.

"Searching for you." He was surprised for he turned to her. She raised one curved eyebrow in response.

"Are you alone?"

"No longer. . . . Did you rent a bed for the night?" he shook his head. "Good. I already have a room. We can talk there."

They rose in unison, and she led him to the stairs at the back of the common room. The worn treads creaked under their feet as they climbed the stairs into a second story in which a single candle illuminated. As per the mistress's explanation, she let the way to the last door on the right, and unlocked the door with the iron key that was given to her. Waiting for Murtagh to cross the threshold, she closed and secured the door again.

She heard Murtagh murmur, "Brisingr," lighting an oil lamp on a low table to their right. But it did little in providing light for the room was still dark. It was a small room and the only other furnishing in it beside the table was the narrow bed with a single blanket thrown over the ticking. She went to put her small bag of supplies on the mattress. She unfastened her brooch and placed her traveling cloak on the bed, before turning to Murtagh. "Thorn said that you stayed behind to kill the last Ra'zac and to explore the rest of Helgrind. Is that the truth?"

"It's part of the truth."

"And what is the whole truth?"

"Promise me that you won't share what I'm about to tell you with anyone unless I give you my permission." She stared at him before consenting knowing that it was the only way for him to reveal to her his true reasoning.

"I promise," she said in the ancient language.

Then he told her about Sloan, why he decided not to bring him back to the Varden, and the curse he had laid upon the butcher, and the chance he had given Sloan to redeem himself and to regain his sight. He finally finished by saying, "Whatever happens, Roran and Katrina can never learn the Sloan is alive. If they do, there'll be no end of troubles."

Arya sat on the edge of the bed as he concluded his explanation, her eyes moving to the lamp and its jumping flames. For a long while, she didn't speak but contemplated what he had told her. Eventually she said, "You should have killed him."

"Maybe, but I couldn't."

"Just because you find your task distasteful is no reason to shirk it. You were a coward."

Her accusation seemed to cause him offense. And they argued if slightly, their stances of justice and morality until Arya found it pointless to continue. After moment, Murtagh gestured to the forest green dress that she wore. "Have you finally decided to abandon your shirt and trousers?"

She permitted a small smile to appear on her face, "Only for the duration of this trip. I've lived among the Varden for more years than I care to recall, yet I still forget how humans insist upon separating their women from their men. I never could bring myself to adopt your customs, even if I did not conduct myself entirely as an elf. Who was to say yea or nay to me? My mother? She was on the other side of Alagaesia." At the mention of her mother, she caught herself. The pain of their recent argument resurfacing in her mind. After a moment, she continued, "In any event, I had an unfortunate encounter with a pair of ox herders soon after I left the Varden, and I stole this dress directly afterward."

"It fits well."

"One advantage of being a spellcaster is that you never have to wait for a tailor."

He laughed, then asked, "What now?"

"Now we rest. Tomorrow, before the sun rises, we shall slip out of Eastcroft, and no one shall be the wiser."

After a short rest and the stars began to fade, it was time for her and Murtagh to leave Eastcroft. Together, they opened the window and jumped from the sill to the ground twelve feet below. As she fell, Arya grasped the skirt of her dress to keep it from billowing around her. Another reason why she detested dresses: they limited her actions. They landed inches apart and they set off running between the houses towards the palisade.

"People will wonder where were went," said Murtagh between strides. "Maybe we should have waited and left like normal travelers."

"It's riskier to stay. I paid for my room. That's all the innkeeper really cares about, not whether we snuck out early." They parted for a moment as they circumvented a decrepit wagon, and then she added, "The most important thing is to keep moving. If we linger, the king will surely find us." And she did not want to be faced with that situation, not from what he'd done to Eragon.

When they arrived at the outer wall, she ranged along it until she found a post that protruded somewhat. She wrapped her hands around it and pulled, testing the wood with her weight. To her satisfaction, the post swayed and rattled but it held. "You first," said Arya to Murtagh.

"Please, after you."

Why must human men always insist upon courtesy when it came to women? She tapped her bodice with a sigh of impatience. "A dress is somewhat breezier than a pair of leggings, Murtagh."

Heat flooded his cheeks as he caught her meaning and without a word gripped the post and began to climb with his hands and feet until he reached the top, stopping to balance himself on the tips of the sharp posts.

"Go on," whispered Arya.

"Not until you join me."

"Don't be so—"

"Watchman!" said Murtagh and pointed. She cursed inwardly and gripped the post, using only the strength of her arms to pull herself up. It would look ridiculous if she used her feet as she wore a dress. When she was close enough, Murtagh seized her right forearm and lifted her above the remained of the posts, setting her down next to him. There they remained until the watchmen continued on his rounds.

Without a word, the two of them dropped to the other side of the palisade and dashed away from Eastcroft, skirting the farms that surrounded the village. Five miles from the village when it became apparent that they were utterly alone, the two of them drew to a halt by a charred stump. Kneeling Arya scooped several handfuls of dirt from the ground in front of her, "Adurna risa," she said. She waited until water filled the cavity before she ended the spell before intoning the spell of scrying. Nasuada's face appeared upon the surface of the skill water. Arya greeted her as did Murtagh, but his held a hint of warmth and longing that hers lacked.

"Murtagh," she replied with the same warmth, bringing to mind Eragon's words. _I believe Murtagh and Nasuada may fancy one another. It certainly seems so, do you not agree? _She did as she watched them gaze upon one another. "You are safe, thank Gokukara. We were so worried."

"I'm sorry I upset you, but I had my reasons."

"You must explain them to me when you arrive."

"As you wish," he gestured to her bandages his face showing a frown, "How were you hurt? Did someone attack you? Why hasn't Eragon healed you?"

"I ordered him to leave me alone. And that I will explain to you when you arrive. Consider it trade secrets," To Arya, Nasuada said, "I'm impressed; you found him. I wasn't sure you could."

"Fortune smiled upon me."

"Perhaps but I tend to believe your skill was just as important as Fortune's generosity. How long until you rejoin us?"

"Two, three days, unless we encounter unforeseen difficulties."

They discussed communication practices until Murtagh had asked for Thorn which made Arya's heart ache for Eridor. She'd left him on a depressing note. In the back of her mind, she heard the anguished roar that he released as she sped away from the Varden. It had but her in a foul mood the first day of her trip but she had soon cast the thought aside. It wouldn't due to linger on the past. And when she returned to the Varden, she would ride with him for as long as he wanted. After Murtagh had spoke with Thorn indirectly did Arya speak.

"How is Eridor?" she asked the dark skinned leader.

Nasuada sighed, "Upset at your departure, but Saphira has handled that end rather well. Once he hears tide of your return, he shall no doubt be heartened."

Arya nodded, she'd guessed as much. Then Murtagh asked the question that was on her mind but she didn't voice, "Where is Eragon? Is he not with you?"

At his question, she seemed to grow more tired, "It is late and though he wished to stay with me to discuss further actions on the Varden's behalf, I ordered him to rest." Her eyes locked with Arya's. "He's been ill as of late."

"Ill?" Arya repeated, trying to retain her worry.

"Yes, it's been getting rather serious since you'd left, Arya. It pains him to wake in the morning and though he doesn't speak of it, his servants are more concerned for his welfare than he is. And from what I hear, he doesn't eat and sleep is hard for him to come by." Nasuada caught herself as if she'd said too much but it was enough for worry to flood through Arya. He was ill…can that mean his soul…It sounded like he had the same symptoms as he did when he was ill in Ellesmera. They had to hurry back to the Varden.

After Arya and Murtagh took their leave of Nasuada, Arya terminated the spell and stood, anxious to leave immediately for the Varden. With the back of her hand, she knocked the dirt from her dress.

"Let us be off," she said already moving. Her heart set on journeying swiftly back to the Varden.

They traveled for the greater part of early morning and well enough into the day until she allowed for a moment's respite. Murtagh didn't speak of his aches but she knew him well enough to know that his bones ached and his feet were like lead. He never ran like he did when he was with her. It was midafternoon the day after they had left Eastcroft when Arya sensed the patrol of fifteen soldiers ahead of them. They were nearing the border of Surda and it did not surprise her to find soldiers patrolling it; to prevent desertion she thought.

The land around them was flat and open, devoid of any cover. They would have to travel with their heads down and hope that the soldiers would disregard them. But when it came to being ignored or dismissed, both she and Murtagh had the bad misfortune of always being halted. When they were faced by the patrol, Murtagh had gripped the pommel of Zar'roc which was disguised as a traveling staff, wrapped in cloth. The two of them hurriedly smeared dirt on their palms to cover their gedwey ignasia. While Arya wrapped the skirt of her dress over her leggings.

The soldier who had ordered the patrol to a halt before Arya and Murtagh spoke again, "Let me see your faces." They both raised their heads, Arya's beauty and Murtagh's fair features startling them for a moment. She hid her distaste as she took in the sight of a man on a roan charger. He sported a rather enormous curly mustache that extended a good nine inches in either direction.

The other soldiers held spears pointed at Arya and Murtagh. So much dirt covered them, it was impossible to see the flames stitched on their tunics.

"Now then," said the man, is mustached wobbling, "Who are you? Where are you going? And what is your business in the king's lands?" Then he waved a hand, "No, don't bother answering. It doesn't matter. Nothing matter nowadays. The world is coming to an end, and we waste our days interrogating peasants." _Peasants? _How rude.

The man turned to Murtagh poking and prodding until they searched his bag in which they found his armor which was bestowed upon him by King Hrothgar. It was fine and beautiful but it lacked the grace that Eragon's held. After a few more bashing on Murtagh's behalf, did the man turn to her, "As for your lovely companion, there are other ways she can be of use to the Empire, eh? Now tie them up!"

As always, she felt irritation rise up within her at the suggestive tone he had implied. Why must she always come across the misfortune of being sneered at and desired after? Catching Murtagh's eyes, she blinked. He blinked in return, his grip on Zar'roc tightening. A second later, he pulled the ruby blade free, swinging it through the air severing the head of the man with the mustache from his body. Without waiting for a reaction, he jumped back, bringing his sword into an upward arch slicing the spears in half as they flew towards him. The instant he had brought forth Zar'roc, Arya bounded up the side of the horse nearest her, jumping from stirrup to saddle and with her supernatural strength killed the soldier by kicking him in the head, sending him flying thirty feet away. Then she jumped from saddle to saddle, killing them with her knees, her feet, and her hands with the ease that she was born with.

When the horses had scattered and only three remained, Arya grappled with two of them, who proved a bother as their fear of them put them into a reckless state. The third fled and was pursued by Murtagh. Sidestepping a jab to her side, she reached up with her hand to twist the neck of one of the soldiers she fought until she heard his spine snap. The one left standing let out a cry or terror as he watched his comrade fall. Turning to him, she stepped forward as he retreated, and as quick as can be, darted up to him and with a twist, kicked him in the gut, breaking his ribs. He flew ten yards away before he landed, motionless.

Glancing over the fallen soldiers, she found a tin of water on one of the soldiers and uncorked it, washing her hands and arms with the cool liquid. Murtagh came up beside her, Zar'roc sheathed, and he unharmed.

"How is it," asked Arya, "you could kill that man, but you could not bring yourself to lay a finger on Sloan?" She stood and faced him, her gaze frank.

He answered without feeling, "He was a threat. Sloan wasn't. Isn't it obvious?"

So obvious that she had overlooked the thought, "It ought to be, but it isn't…I am ashamed to be instructed in morality by one with so much less experience. Perhaps I have been too certain, too confident in my own choices."

"I feel like a murderer," said Murtagh as he gazed at the corpses. How different they were, Eragon and Murtagh. She was sure that if Eragon had been by her side as she fought, he would mercilessly dispose of the men without blinking. Killing did not seem to bother him.

"I understand how difficult it is," said Arya. She too did not enjoy killing. But it was a necessity in war, something that neither of them could avoid. They were Riders and it was either to kill or be killed. "Eventually, this war will end, and you will see that our duties encompass more than violence. The Riders were not just warriors; they were teachers, healers, and scholars."

His jaw muscles knotted for a moment, "Why are we fighting these men, Arya?"

"Because they stand between us and Galbatorix." It was that simple. Leaving Murtagh to consider the consequences, Arya stood and moved forward to pick up a spear. Though Murtagh had used Zar'roc to kill a few of them, the others she'd dispatched with just her hands, feet, and knees. It would not doubt draw nearby attention to how easily the soldiers were killed. She placed the tip under the chin of a slain soldier and thrust it into his skill. Murtagh sprang forward and pushed her away from the body.

"What are you doing?" he shouted.

Anger flashed across Arya's face as she beheld him, "I will forgive that only because you are distraught and not of your right mind. Think, Murtagh! It is too late in the day for anyone to be coddling you. Why is this necessary?"

"If we don't, the Empire will notice that most of the men were killed by hand."

At last, he was seeing reason. There was a wet squelch as she pulled the spear out of the body, tapping one end against Zar'roc. "I find this as repulsive as you do, so you might as well make yourself useful and help."

Murtagh nodded and unsheathed his ruby bladed sword and together they set out to make it appear as if a troop of ordinary warriors had killed the soldiers. It was grisly work, Arya admitted but it was necessary. Once done, she threw her spear aside without a second thought. "We should be off." She said as Murtagh repacked his armor. "The shadows lengthen, and someone else if bound to appear and raise a hue and cry when they discover this crow's feast."

That night, Arya sat staring the meager fire she had created while Murtagh ate to regain his energy. It was late and they would have to get an early start the next morning but neither of them made a move to retire. Arya sat at right angles to Murtagh, her legs pulled up, with her arms wrapped around them and her chin resting on her knees. The skirt of her dress spread outward, like the wind-battered petals of a flower. She was too worried thinking about Eragon's welfare to sleep. He was having trouble eating and sleeping…and she knew that it was serious for Eragon valued sleep more than gold and it usually came to her naturally without fail. It had been nearly two days since they'd left Eastcroft and she was sure that by midafternoon the next day they would reach the Varden.

That was right; he was pale when she'd left his nearly four days ago, as if he couldn't sleep. Her worry increased. There must be a way to save Eragon before he sunk into the madness of the spirit within him. But how? Where did she start? Who did she have to speak to? She refused to accept it as a futile mission. There was a way; she just had to look harder.

Murtagh shifted uneasily as howls filled the night silence.

"What's wrong?" asked Arya. "Is it the wolves? They shall not bother us, you know. They are teaching their pups how to hunt and they won't allow their younglings bear creatures who smell as strangely as we do."

"It's not the wolves out there," said Murtagh. "It's the wolves in here." He tapped the middle of his forehead.

She nodded understanding where it was that he was coming from. "It is always thus. The monsters of the mind are far worse than those that actually exist. Fear, doubt, and hate have hamstrung more people than beasts ever have."

"And love," Murtagh added.

"And love," she admitted, thinking of Eragon. "Also greed and jealousy and every other obsessive urge the sentient races are susceptible to."

"Does it bother you when you kill?"

His question offended her. Had he not learned anything during his stay in Ellesmera? Though it may have been a brief handful of months, it should have been enough for him to comprehend the nature of her people. Arya's eyes narrowed. "Neither I nor my people eat the flesh of animals because we cannot bear to hurt another creature to satisfy our hunger, and you have the effrontery to ask if killing disturbs us? Do you really understand so little of us that you believe we are coldhearted killers?"

"No, of course not. Do not take offense for that was not what I meant," he protested.

"Then say what you mean and do not give insult unless it is your intention."

"What I want to know is, how do you feel when you kill? How are you supposed to feel? Do you see the warriors you've slain staring back at you, as real as you are before me?"

She stared at the fire, before opting to tell Murtagh the time when she had first taken a life. It was nine months after she'd taken up her position as her mother's ambassador. And the Varden under Weldon during their march to Surda had encountered a band of Urgal. They were content on merely passing but the Urgals being overly fond of war decided otherwise. And that day was the first day in which she'd taken a life. Though her blade was stained with black blood and the body that laid at her feet was that of an Urgal, she felt the sadness of the loss of life. It had haunted her for weeks on end, knowing that she'd committed nature's greatest violations and killed another.

"How did you come to terms with what you had done?"

"I examined my reasons for killing to determine if they were just. Satisfied they were, I asked myself if our cause was important enough to continue supporting it, even though it would probably require me to kill again. Then I decided that whenever I think of the dead, I would picture myself in the gardens of Tialdari Hall."

"Did it work?"

"It did. The only antidote for the corrosive poison of violence is finding peace within yourself. It's a difficult cure to obtain, but well worth the effort." She paused then added, "Breathing helps too."

"Breathing?"

She nodded. Murtagh had soon followed her advice and calming himself and his mind. Eventually he gave her his thanks. Then he spoke again, "I'm weak compared to Eragon, aren't I? Even if I'm his elder brother." She didn't speak but wait for him to continue. "Killing has never seemed to bother him. I've seen him snapped a man's neck with his feet or slice another into quarters. But he'd never so much as blink."

"It's because he's had more time to acquaint himself with the practice," said Arya softly as she too had thought of Eragon's demeanor in battle. He changed from one of stoicism to a ruthless warrior. "Or rather, he had to learn to kill without mercy."

Murtagh nodded again, then like Eragon had back in Ellesmera, Murtagh had stumbled across her shadows as he asked about her tortures at Gil'ead. "You never talk about it. You can recount the facts of your imprisonment readily enough, but you never mention what it was like for you. Not how you feel about it now."

"Pain is pain," she said. "It needs no description."

"True, but ignoring it can cause more harm than the original injury, at least on the inside," said Murtagh.

"Why do you assume that I have not already confided in someone?"

"Who?"

"Does it matter? Ajihad, my mother, a friend in Ellesmera. . . Eragon."

Murtagh nodded and decided not to pursue the matter, before he addressed another topic. "It must be nice to have someone to share your burdens." She glanced at Murtagh, slightly confused at his statement.

"You have Thorn."

"No, I mean a mate or a betrothed or a wife. . ." Murtagh trailed off, seemingly embarrassed by his words. It was nice, she thought. Reaching down, she began to tear blades of grass from the ground as her hands itching to do something. "Though the bond of a rider and their dragon may be deep and eternal, there are some areas in which another has to fill. Whether it is a mate or a wife. I just wished. . ." He stopped again, embarrassed as his cheeks turned a deep shade of red.

Arya nodded, "I understand, only as a Rider, you must choose who it is that you wish to devote your heart to. It is not a simple task as picking a piece of jewelry and wearing it. No. It requires a bond of unbreakable trust and a deep friendship as well as strong affection," said Arya as she wove the pieces of grass into the object on her mind. "But you being a dragon rider as well as a part of the dwarves' clan must understand that whoever you choose will affect your relationship to those around you as well as your own reputation."

"You chose Eragon," Murtagh pointed out.

Arya nodded, "I did for I felt all of those feelings that I had described to you earlier. I understood the consequences in taking him for a mate. And I do not regret it in the slightest, for I understand him and where he comes from. And he for me. Know this Murtagh, always guard your heart from temptation and entrust it to one who you know will stand with you even if the world does not."

With a pleased expression she held out her palms showing a beautiful ship woven out of grass.

"It's beautiful," Murtagh said.

Leaning forward, she murmured, "Flauga." The ship rose from her hands and sailed around the fire before gathering speed and gilding off into the night sky.

"How far will it go?"

"Forever," she answered, "As long as there is a source of energy from it to draw from whether animal or plants, it will continue to stay aloft. Flying towards the ends of Alagaesia maybe."

There was a lapse in their conversation before Murtagh spoke again. "Why did you come for me? I'm capable of taking care of myself you know."

Arya turned to stare at him. She had known that he would eventually ask that question and she knew her own answer to it well enough. "If I hadn't come after you then Eragon would. And he's in no state to be wandering about the Empire. You are his brother and though elves do not marry when taking a mate, I've come to acknowledge you as family in that aspect."

"Eragon come after me?" he snorted. "I don't think that would ever happen. At best, he _tolerates_ me."

She regarded him for a moment, "I do not think so. You may be half brothers but you are still his family. It is difficult, I assume, for Eragon to interact with others for he has grown up in an environment in which self survival is key. While you grew up with the love of family and friends. Barriers such as those are hard to overcome, do you not agree?"

He nodded and they sat there in silence as the branches in the fire burned. Then she felt it in the sudden wind that had decided to buffet them. Immediately she went to put out the fire as Murtagh crouched alerted. "What is it?" he asked.

She stood in a half crouch alert, her eyes surveying the darkness about them. "We are being watched. Whatever happens, don't use magic or you may get us killed." She didn't fancy the thought of dying. Not yet.

"Who—"

"Shh."

In the distance a cluster of lights approached them, floating through the air not of this world. A crackling nimbus surrounded each orb, pulsing with energy. Her eyes counted two dozen spirits headed towards them. That was too great a number for her and Murtagh to overcome if the need arises. First a patrol and now spirits. They seemed to be a magnet for danger, Arya though wryly. She tasted metal as the spirit continued their approach and her hair stood on end to her slight annoyance. She did not flinch but instead lifted her arm and laid her hand upon the single orb that pulsed royal blue and verdant green. A radiant joy filled her like never before. It inquired to their use of magic and she explained it to them as well as Eragon, who had freed the spirits in Durza. Its reaction was one of immense gratitude which seem to fill her to the brim with happiness even more. Then it released her and drifted towards Murtagh. His expression was one of outright happiness when he touched it and when it rejoined its brethren, the spirits floated away in the direction of Surda.

She sat as Murtagh fell to his knees, blinking. "What were they?"

"Spirits."

He nodded, "What did you say to them?"

"It was curious as to why we had been using magic; that was what brought us to their attention. I explained, and I also explained that Eragon, your half-brother, was the one who freed the spirits trapped inside Durza. That seemed to please them a great deal," her hand came to rest on the ground, but instead she felt a cool metal. "Oh!" she said realizing what the spirit had left them. "They were indeed grateful. Naina!"

At her command a soft light illuminated the camp. The grass underneath them had turned into solid gold and to her surprise in the center of the camp where the fire used to be was a single white rose. The spirit must have seen how much the flower had meant to her and Eragon through her memories and decided to make one for her. Reaching forward to touch it, her eyes widened. Instead of the soft feathering touch of its petals, her fingers brushed the surface of platinum. Her eyes followed its stem which was of solid gold, and in the center sapphires and diamonds sparkled in the dim light.

"A golden rose!"

"And it is still alive," said Arya.

"No!" But the expression on his face soon became one of amazement as he felt the life of the flower. "Amazing!"

"It truly is," she smiled slightly as she caressed the flower. Maybe once the war was over or when the Varden marched into the Empire, she would take Eragon to see the gifts the spirits had bestowed upon them in his honor. If, that was, the rose was not dug up by a horde of greedy fortune hunters. After a few more moments of admiration, Arya snapped her fingers, casting them into darkness as her werelight faded into oblivion. "We have talked the night away. It is time we rested. Dawn is fast approaching, and we must depart soon thereafter."

Hopefully, the golden rose would remain hidden from the world's knowledge long enough for her to show it to Eragon. He would no doubt enjoy seeing it.

**Painfully long chapter, I'm going to see if I can shorten them a little. But seeing as my story is going to diverge from CP's original soon, it probably won't happen anytime soon. Anyways, Happy New Years! In 3 more hours it will be 2012! Break our the wine bottles and light some fireworks people!**


	48. Chapter 43

**It is 01/01/2012! And I've decided to post this chapter anyways. I didn't feel the need to with hold it from you all. And my god my story is getting really long. I hope I can finish it by the 75th chapter or so. But I'm just hoping. Anyways Happy Reading!**

Eragon heaved a breath as he stood from his cot. Though Arya had just left a day ago, it felt like a century since he'd last seen her. His body ached and he felt on the verge of collapsing from fever. But what ailed him most was the constant ache in his head that desired for the blood thirst of battle and the pain that it brought. The seal in his right eye was fading as the days went by and rapidly for he was constantly surrounded by pain and blood thirst, especially from the humans and dwarves towards the Urgals. He feared that one day he might lose control of himself and immerse himself in the blood shed the spirit desired so.

He wasn't going to hold it off anymore, he'd decided last night that he would enlist his servants' help. Tiredly reaching out for Rosalie's mind, he found her in the southern side of the Varden's camp with Angela. Immediately, the barriers to her mind lowered, _my lord._

_Rosalie, _he tried to keep his thoughts together, _I need you and the others to come to my tent._

_Now?_

_Yes, this is the best time; _he struggled for a moment, the spirit enticed by Rosalie's strong mind. _Please._

_We shall be there, _Rosalie's response was solid for he had never used courteous words with her or any of his other servants. She must have realized the urgency of the situation at hand; he thought his mind tired and wary despite it only being morning. Saphira who was out hunting with Eridor to calm the upset dragon was too far to hear his conversation and Arya was nowhere to be seen, making this an opportune moment.

He wiped at his brow, feeling sweat accumulate on his face and he shivered again, though there was no chill. Barely fifteen minutes passed before the flap to his tent was pushed aside and his servants filed in. They stood before him, somber and ready, as if preparing to face battle. He glanced up at them. They had all served him for a good few years, Rosalie having been by his side the longest and he knew that what he would ask of them would cause them a tremendous amount of pain.

He gestured for them to sit, and they did each on a stool he had prepared for them while he sat on his cot. Taking a moment to observe them, Eragon felt a slight warmth envelope him as he thought of their unswerving loyalty the past years. His eyes landed on Rosalie first, she was dressed in clothing akin to a man. She wore a tunic clinched at the waist by a belt and instead of a skirt she wore leggings. It was a masculine look but she made it rather feminine. Beside her sat Desdemona, garbed the same way as Rosalie, she had forgone dresses since the battle and said that it made fighting too hard for her. And while Rosalie's hair was braided, Desdemona's flowed down her back pin straight. Bard was at attention where he sat beside Desdemona, his blond hair showing streaks from constantly being out in the sun, and Eragon could tell that he was sporting a stubble on his chin and cheeks. Beside him sat Finny, quiet and solemn unlike his usual energetic self. The two men were dressed accordingly, tunics and breeches. And as Eragon stared at them, he smiled slightly knowing that they seemed like ordinary people when they were the most unique one could ever find.

After a while, he spoke, murmuring words in the ancient language. "Atra nosu waise vardo fra eld hornya," he did not want anyone to chance upon what he was about to tell his servants. If anything, their expression grew more somber for they knew that what he wanted to say was not to be taken lightly.

He took a deep breath, before meeting their gaze with his, "Please forgive my sudden urgency, but there was a matter I wanted to discuss with you."

"My lord," it was Rosalie who spoke, "Perhaps this can wait? You're ill and need to rest."

He shook his head, "I'm not ill, not physically anyway," said Eragon, he wiped his hands on his cot, they were sweaty. "And this matter cannot wait any longer. Promise that you will not tell any else of what I shall tell you unless I give you my permission."

"We promise," they murmured in the ancient language. Eragon nodded, though he knew that they would babble about it in the first place. Their verbal promise put his mind at ease.

Rubbing his temple, he searched for a place to start. "I'm losing my mind," Eragon said eventually unable to speak of it with tact. But he was sure that they would prefer him to be blunt. "Everyday, I'm finding myself sinking into madness. I've been getting strong urges to rip asunder everything I set my eyes on, to drench myself in blood, and to kill needlessly. It's been growing harder and harder for me to resist temptation."

Their expressions were drawn in concern and they looked ready to bombard him with questions, but he held up his hand. Seeing it, they remained silent, allowing him to continue. "I should start from the beginning to help you all to understand," said Eragon. "When I hired you all into my service, I wasn't myself. I was half of who I am. I had only half a soul and half a heart at that time."

Confusion spread on Finny's expression. Bard looked ready to attack something. Desdemona was frowning, her hands clenched and Rosalie seemed to grow pale as if sick. "When Saphira had hatched for me, Galbatorix was able to take half of my soul and replace it with a spirit. And ever since, I had to visit Uru'baen to have enchantments cast on the spirit to keep it from rebelling."

"It's our fault," said Rosalie weakly. "We made you leave the Empire. That's why you're. . . "

She stopped unable to continue, but Eragon shook his head at their expressions of regret. "No, you all made the right choice. My mother is happy and reunited with Murtagh and Brom. Saphira is happy for she'd found a companion in Thorn and a mate in Eridor. I'm happy…though I may not show it. I don't regret leaving the Empire, not for a moment nor do I blame you all."

"Is there a cure?" Finny asked in a quiet voice that lacked his usual happiness and joy.

Eragon sighed, "The only way to cure me is to retrieve the other half of my soul and heart, but I do not delude myself in thinking that there is enough time for me to take it from Galbatorix."

"Then take our souls," he blinked when he heard the suggestion coming from Desdemona. He stared at her. "If it can save you, then I'll gladly give it, my lord."

"No," his lips drew into a thin line. "I would never do what Galbatorix did to me to any of you. I would rather die."

Though his statement seemed to touch them, it was far from comforting them of his fate. "Then what is it that you've called us here for my lord?" asked Rosalie, her green eyes bright. "It isn't merely to tell us about your condition, is it?"

She always was the brightest one out of them, Eragon thought as he glanced at her. Next to Desdemona that was. He coughed slightly feeling a shiver run down his spine. "I have a boon to ask of you all," Eragon said feeling a sudden depression settle over him as he thought of what he was about to ask and their reactions. "I cannot guarantee that I can control the spirit in my body any longer. And when I become completely engulfed in his madness, I would no doubt cause mayhem wherever I go." He stopped, taking in a deep breath.

The four of them waited patiently, not minding his sudden silence.

"When that happens," said Eragon ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach. "I want you four to stop me." His eyes jumped from one to the other to judge their reaction.

Rosalie was staring at him as if he had died, her eyes wide and her lips parted like she was about to cry. Desdemona was trying to stop the shaking in her legs as she sat there. Bard held his head in his hands. And Finny's expression was one of grief, so strong that Eragon had to glance away. They had reacted just as he had expected.

"No, never!" Rosalie cried standing as her anger seemed to wash over her and she was unable to sit calmly anymore. "I could never lift my blade against you, my lord. Just as you can never take one of our souls."

"Yes, I would rather cut off my own hands before I do you any harm," agreed Desdemona but she didn't stand as did Rosalie but stared at him with her piercing violet eyes.

"You hired us to protect your mother," Bard was also standing his arms crossed as he scowled. "And we'd extended that protection to you. No one is going to attempt what it is that you are asking. Not I nor Rosalie, Desdemona, and Finny."

"If we did, Saphira would never forgive us. Lady Selena would fall ill from grief," said Finny quietly as he too stood, refusing to sit. "Lady Arya would be pained beyond anything."

Though he had thought of what the younger boy was saying, to hear it repeated made his heart ache considerably. He did not want to see his mother's reaction if she were to find out that he was going crazy. He did not want to think of Saphira's grief when she found out about his request. And he certainly did not want to think of Arya's own pain after they'd just found one another. "That's why I'm asking you four, because I know they will understand your actions for you've followed me diligently and they know that you would rather die for me than see to it that I fall in battle."

None of them replied but remained silent and resolute in their answers. "The four of you can do it; I know you can for when you work together. You are a force to be reckoned with and you're the only ones who I could ask this of. I know you will not begrudge me." He slid off of his cot and went on both knees before them. "Do this last favor for me…please."

He did not want to resort to this for he knew it would cause them an insurmountable amount of pain to see their lord before them in such a state. And he was right for hands tugged at him to stand but he refused. "Promise me, you will do it," said Eragon quietly.

They stared at him, their throats convulsing and the areas around their eyes tight. It was Rosalie who caved first, for she had known him the longest and understood the depth of what he was asking of them. "I promise," her lips trembled. "When the time comes, I promise to stop you, my lord."

"Rosalie!" exclaimed Bard. "You can't—"

"I don't want to!" she cried, her voice pained and then she began to cry. Her tears startled him, like it had when Arya had cried. He felt lost and didn't know what to do like he did now. "It's not fair to anyone but we can't let that demon in him to roam free with his body and tarnish his name."

Their resolve swayed at her panic and distress before Finny spoke, "I promise as well." And he too cried. Eragon glanced at Desdemona and Bard who were frozen trying to combat the situation. After a while they too promised him. Relieved, Eragon stood, Desdemona had turned her back to him to hide her own tears and Bard refused to cry, his eyes bright.

"Thank you," he whispered. "What you've promised me means much."

Rosalie hastily wiped at her tears, "I—" her voice trembled. She coughed before speaking again, this time stronger. "Angela needs me to go—to go and replace Lady Nasuada's bandages." She hurriedly left the tent as if unable to bear being in his presence anymore.

"I should go check on Lady Selena," said Desdemona refusing to turn and face him. She too left.

"I have to train the troops with Sir Brom," Bard soon followed, leaving Finny who was wiping his tears on the sleeves of his tunic, however short they were. Eragon observed, seeing how young he truly was at the moment.

"I'm going to go help build the battering rams," and with that he too had left.

Eragon watched them leave, feeling a sadness overwhelm him. He did not want to cause them any pain but it seemed inevitable for they were the only ones he could turn to. Sighing, he resumed sitting on his cot. How was Arya faring? He thought. He gripped his hand to keep it from trembling; he did not want to think of leaving her or Saphira and his mother. But it was a fate that he'd come to accept. He blinked feeling his eyes itch. That was right, Eragon thought as he heard Arya's voice echo in his mind.

_I understood then that the true agony of war isn't being wounded yourself; it's having to watch those you care about being hurt._

He thought he had come to understand that reasoning too, but it wasn't until he saw the immense expressions of pain on his servants' faces did the thought finally hit home. He folded his hands together and brought it to his lips as he closed his eyes. Life was always too painful for him to bear at times.

As he sat there and thought, a sudden commotion in the north caught his attention. Eragon stood, feeling slightly better than he did when he woke and strapped his sword to his hip. Exiting his tent, he made for the direction in the north, nodding to those who hailed him on his way. What was causing such a ruckus? His acute hearing picked up on cheers and shouts. As he neared the direction, he could see Nasuada and Elva standing at the northern entrance of the camp beside her roan charger. His eyes narrowed, he could pick out Angela and Rosalie amongst them as well as her six guards.

And she was speaking it seemed to a dozen elves. _Those must be the spellcasters that Islanzadi had sent to guard Murtagh, _Eragon thought. He had declined the idea of being guarded and the Queen also thought that he as well as Arya was capable of fending for themselves. While Murtagh being unknowledgeable about most things needed the extra protection. As he approached, Elva turned to him with a questioning face as her eyes darted from Rosalie to him with slight distaste and great curiosity. The young girl, Eragon had come to realize, came to grow attached to his servant and she must have felt her pain at the moment.

Eragon came up behind Nasuada, "My lady," he murmured.

She turned to him; her eyes took in his pale countenance before she nodded. Eragon moved to stand at her right hand and Rosalie stepped to stand beside him, her eyes were clear but he could still see the redness of her tears from earlier. His frowned, displeased at himself. Nasuada turned back to the elves, and she spoke with the lead elf who resembled a wolf to his surprise. How odd. When Nasuada had asked for his compliance in allowing one of her men to read his mind, Eragon could see the displeasure the wolf-elf, Blodhgarm show in his bearings.

"For the most part, the trees of Du Weldenvarden have needles, not leaves. Test us if you must, but I warn you, whomever, you assign the task should take great care he does not delve too deeply into our minds, else he may find himself stripped of his reason. It is perilous for morals to wander among out thoughts; they can easily become lost and be unable to return to their bodies. Nor are our secrets available for general inspection."

Eragon understood that through Blodhgarm's polite warning that the elf would destroy anyone who ventured into forbidden territory. Nasuada turned to him, "Eragon, are you feeling well enough to do so?" she asked.

He was about to step forward before Rosalie gripped his arm, she stepping before him. "Allow me to do so, my lady. His lordship needs rest and truth be told, he should be resting."

Angela nodded her head in approval as did Nasuada. He glanced at Rosalie but she refused to stare at him and instead stepped forward towards the elf, who regarded her with an expression akin to interest. He would be surprised, Eragon thought, to realize that Rosalie was not like mortal women but she was as strong and swift as an elf despite her appearance. She closed her eyes and stood still before Blodhgarm as she searched through his mind. After a moment, she opened her eyes and turned to Nasuada with a slight smile, "He is indeed who he claims to be, my lady."

Pleased, Nasuada said, "Very well. Proceed." Rosalie stepped before each elf, searching their thoughts and proclaiming them to be who they were until she was done. Eragon watched her, it did not pain or harm Rosalie in any way when she searched the elves' minds, she did so like she was pouring tea or playing the harp, with ease. Done with the very last of them, she glided back to Eragon, taking her place behind him again. Eragon glanced down at her. Rosalie smiled to show that she was indeed unharmed. Satisfied, Eragon turned back to the proceedings.

He glanced towards Nasuada as she bent down to listen to what Elva had to say. Eragon frowned, why was that? He felt Rosalie nudge him slightly, beckoning with her fingers. He would have preferred for her to contact him using his mind but he feared that if anyone touched his consciousness in the state that it was they could seriously injure themselves. He bent slightly for her to whisper in his ear, "Do you smell his aroma?"

"No," he murmured back, barely moving his lips.

"It is most pleasant, or at least to those who can smell it which seems to be females," she whispered wryly. "Nasuada is attracted to his smell; it makes it hard for her to concentrate on diplomacy and politics at the moment."

His frown deepened as he regarded his liege lord who had regained her composure. "Why aren't you affected?"

"Because I have wards against magical influence and also, I find his aroma a bit too strong for my nose," she pulled away, subconsciously rubbing her nose as she did so. Eragon raised a brow but did not comment on it but instead returned his gaze to Nasuada and Blodhgarm. Then to his surprise the elves burst out into laughter at Nasuada's rather serious response. All around birds began to burst into song and the sound of the mirth seemed to make everyone else giddy. He continued to frown. Then when they fell silent, gloom began to set in over them all.

There were three roars overhead, causing Eragon to glance upwards; Saphira, Thorn, and Eridor were rapidly descending on the camp, their scales causing a mirage of colors to fall across the camp. From within the camp, Eragon saw King Orrin and his company riding towards them. It was going to be a rather messy situation. "Rosalie," Eragon murmured, tired.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Make sure that the women do not corner Blodhgarm for I'm afraid that they will tear him apart if what you speak is true."

"Of course," though her expression was still strained, she said her reply with a tint of humor.

The next day, Eragon had instituted a strict regime of training with his servants as the dragons watched on the side and beside them stood the elves also interested in watching. Though he was uncomfortable with their presence, he knew that they would prefer to stay by the dragons' side and it seemed to put them at ease.

He grunted when Rosalie had managed to slip through his defense while he was busy parrying a blow to the head by Finny. She brought the pommel of her sword to his chest and knocked him to the ground, dancing backwards as she did so. They were doing well, Eragon thought. Out of the five rounds they fought together, they had managed to defeat him three times.

_Is this really necessary? _Saphira asked from where she laid on the side of the training field. _Fighting four to one seems hardly fair._

_I have to train to be a better fighter, _said Eragon with a grimace as he stood. _Sitting around on my behind will not help me accomplish anything._

_You're already strong enough as it is, _she said.

_There is always room for perfection, _he grinned slightly, _you should give it a try, you look like you've gained some weight._

She huffed, indignant at his statement, _it's only because Eridor insist that I eat enough for two dragons. If Arya handed you food that she'd cooked then you wouldn't turn it down. _She paused then added, _that's something you should learn._

_What?_

_Never mention a woman's weight when you are speaking to them, it's plain rude._

_I believe you are quite beautiful Saphira, _he said it sincerely which seemed to please her. She was, Eragon thought, rather vain. Even though she couldn't help it. Ever since he had enlisted his servants' help, he made a resolution to be out and about despite the feeling of illness he constantly harbored. And he didn't want to sadden Saphira by remained holed up in his tent forever.

In truth, the lessons he had with his servants wasn't to better his own skills but theirs. When the time came for them to…fulfill their promise to him, they had to be at their utmost. Rosalie glanced at him, "Are we to continue my lord?"

Eragon nodded. The four of them took their places. It was a good strategy, Eragon thought as he observed them. Bard stood behind them a fifty yards, he did not fight but instead guided them as they fought Eragon. Being a strategist, he maneuvered them into positions that benefited them the most and he provided them the extra energy in case they tired. Then Finny was the head of their attacks, he would charge Eragon and whatever opening he created, Rosalie and Desdemona would swoop in to take advantage of it.

Finny charged, prepared, Eragon easily retreated, flipping backwards. He saw Desdemona coming towards his right and twisted his leg. She brought up her sword to parry the attack but the strength of his kick send her skidding backwards. Rosalie slid underneath him mid flip, bringing up her elbow, he reached out and gripped her shoulders before flipping the opposite way. Landing on his feet, he turned in time to parry Rosalie's blow. She pulled back as Desdemona charged and it was an onslaught from the two women, their movements swift and powerful. Finny often accompanied them in their attacks but his brute strength if not applied correctly could do them harm. His heart pulsed in his chest and red clouded his mind.

Eragon stumbled allowing Rosalie's elbow to make contact with his chest sending him flying to the ground in a daze. A breath escaped him as bright red and purples spots blinked before his eyes. _Eragon, are you feeling unwell?_

_No, I was just distracted._

_Even so, it's time to call an end to this, you're injuring yourself with every practice, _said Saphira forcefully. _There's no need to continue._

Rosalie and Desdemona's concerned faces hovered over him, he blinked again. "My lord," it was Desdemona who spoke. "You need to rest and eat, practicing when you're sleep deprived and hungry won't do you good."

"Yes, there's always tomorrow for us to continue and if it pleases you, will even practice with the elves," suggested Rosalie. Eragon nodded, before tiredly standing.

Rosalie and Desdemona had sheathed their swords. Eragon searched for his which Rosalie held out to him. He took it from her and sheathed it himself. "If you don't mind, Bard will gladly cook up something for you to eat."

He nodded, food sounded like a pleasant idea at the moment. When he gave them his consent, excitement coursed through them as they led him to his mother's tent where they wanted to throw a family dinner. After what they had promised him, it was the least he could do.

_I believe that the elves might know your father, Eragon._

He turned to Saphira as she walked behind him, Eridor and Thorn following and behind them were the elves. _Is that so?_

_Yes, for all of them have fought in battles against the Forsworn during the fall of the Riders. They might have fought besides Brom for he was bent on revenge for his slain dragon._

_You may be right in that aspect._

_Of course I am right, _said Saphira as she swung her tail from side to side, hitting Eridor by accident in the snout. The dragon snapped at her but not threateningly. _Oops._

Eragon chuckled at her as they walked through the tent and Rosalie had promised him, every female that seemed to linger over Blodhgarm's presence was sent in the opposite direction. _I've never seen so many females infatuated with one person, even if it is an elf._

Saphira snorted, _if your mate was anything to go by, then you should've known that this would be the result with more of her people about. Do you not notice the stares the women receive? It is unnerving to see a whole battalion entranced by their beauty._

_It is beyond my power if a warrior decides to approach any of the elven women, _said Eragon. _But if one dares to approach Arya…that is a different matter entirely._

_Oh? Is this jealousy that I'm hearing from you Eragon?_

_No, merely a statement._

_I find that hard to believe._

_You would understand if there was another female competing for Eridor's attention._

She sniffed, unperturbed by his statement. They rounded the corner and his parents' tent came into sight. Lounging outside like she often did with her feet propped up on a stool was his mother as she sat leisurely in a padded armchair. Her right hand was rubbing her swollen belly. His father sat beside her on a three legged stool reading a rather thick book.

They glanced up at their approach, his mother made to stand but Rosalie immediately said otherwise, "No my lady, you are in no condition to overexert yourself. Rest while we do the work."

"You all spoil me so," his mother said with a smile as she relaxed into her seat.

"On accounts of his lordship and from our own desire to see you relax and happy," said Desdemona as she snapped her fingers and with a quick word in the ancient language, the campfire came to life, crackling. "Bard prepare dinner, Finny set the table."

They nodded, bounding in every which way.

His father had closed the book he was reading and stood, surprise etched on his face as he saw Blodhgarm. The elf and his companions approached Brom seemingly at ease with him. To his surprise, they greeted him first. _They respect your father, _said Saphira. _After all, he had created the Varden, slew three of the Forsworn and managed to aggravate his enemies for the better part of the century._

"It has been quite some time since we've last met Blodhgarm," said Brom with a slight smile.

"It has, you seem much better than we you'd departed for the Varden two decades ago," said Blodhgarm.

"Aye, that I am," he glanced at the other elves addressing all of them by name which impressed Eragon. He had not known that his father was highly respected amongst the elves before. It was just another thing he'd learned. "You are the spellcasters sent to guard Murtagh?" They nodded. "He will be in the best of hands, then."

"You honor us so," Eragon took a seat that Finny had prepared for him as Rosalie and Desdemona stood over his mother, worriedly checking her health and condition. Blodhgarm motioned to his mother, "Is she your wife?"

Eragon glanced at his father, he and his mother had never been properly married before which they did not seem to care for. After a moment, Brom nodded, gruffly saying, "Yes, she is my wife in every aspect of the word and more so."

"May we?" the elf was staring at Brom but Eragon could tell that the question was directed towards him. Eragon shrugged, he didn't mind his mother getting to meet the elves. They were, after all, going to guard one of her sons. He approached her, silently and gracefully, the sheen of fur on his body shining in the sunlight. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Selena. We've longed wanted to see the mother of two of our riders and the beloved of the bane of the Forsworn."

His mother regarded them with caution for a moment before bestowing upon them a smile, "The pleasure is well met, fair elf. May I ask for your name and your companions?"

"I am Blodhgarm," and as one the elves introduced themselves to his mother. They seemed, he thought, very cautious about his mother as to not disrupt her condition. The women had asked, very politely, to touch his mother's belly and often enough they whispered a few words in the ancient language to it as if sensing the child within her. They were as happy for his mother as she was which surprised him. But then again, elves praised children far more than anything else. And from what Arya had told him, very few children have been blessed to the elves as of late. Then a wave of confusion swept over him. If he and Arya did kill Galbatorix and lived long enough to see the building of a new order…would she want to have children?

Saphira who was connected to his thoughts began to laugh, the rumbles in her chest shaking the ground and often times she would release a jet of flames from her jaws. _A valid question indeed, little one._

He ignored her teasing but the question confused him for a greater part of the time he waited for his servants to prepared dinner. And when they were done, another wave of confusion swept over him as they energetically invited the elves to the table. Well, more like forced them to sit and dine Eragon thought as the four of them shepherded everyone to the table. His mother was very enrapt by the elves and soon enough a polite but yet long conversation sprung up between his parents and the elves. They spoke of history, of magic, and of many other topics that he did not bother to listen for. Rosalie, being as smart as she was, had managed to start a word game with the elves that delighted them. She proved to be a rather formidable opponent for none could out speak her.

"You are very intelligent," said Blodhgarm after he managed to win a round.

She bestowed upon him a smile, "I would like to think of myself as intelligent," she poured Eragon a cup of tea. "But I manage; real brilliance is far from what I have to offer."

Eragon snorted as he took a sip of his favorite flavored tea, raspberry with a hint of honey. Rosalie blinked at him and turned to take a bite of a muffin before gesturing to one of the female elves. "If I am correct, it is your turn is it not, Invidia?"

She nodded and the game began anew. Eragon watched them not bothering to follow the word plays that involved oxymoron, paradoxes, and ironic twists. As he watched, his heart gave a loud thump in his chest causing him to blink in pain as his vision began to flash red. His grip on his fork tightened as he fought the urge to rip something with his hands.

His lapse did not go unnoticed by his servants. And though they were smiling politely with the elves, their eyes grew bright. The continued their conversations without pause but the slight change in their demeanor bespoke their true feelings.

**You know what? I'm excited to keeping posting up chapters because the more I post, the closer we'll get towards the end of my Rewrite. Then I can start on the other Eragon project that I'm working on.**


	49. Chapter 44

**1,000 Reviews! I'm happy! But this chapter I have to say, I'm not happy with. I don't know but I feel a big annoyance of having to use CP's work sometimes. And thank god, this chapter shall show the divergence from his original works. And it will slowly take form of a plot all on its own. But I'm so thankful that it's over, now I can write this story and still have it move towards the ending that I want.**

It was midafternoon when he heard news of Arya's and Murtagh's return to the Varden, four days after she'd departed in search of his brother. Eridor and Thorn had promptly flown off to meet them, eager to reunite with their Riders. Saphira remained by his side as he sat and tried to study one of the few books that Arya had given to him. _Will you not go to meet her? I know you've missed her._

_Of course you would know, _Eragon neatly folded the corner of the page he was on and closed the book, setting it on the table inside his tent. He stood and strapped his sword onto his waist. _Let us meet them then._

The last three days, he had busied himself with sparring with his servants and in doing so, he'd often found an outlet for the bloodlust that plagued him. It didn't succeed all the time but a handful of times. Though he still felt ill and often times would find himself wandering an alien land in which the ocean was crimson red and the sky a pale gray.

Eragon climbed onto Saphira and with two powerful strokes of her wings, she was airborne. Flying also helped for it cleared his mind. Thorn and Eridor, he saw were already preparing to land in their zeal as they dived to the ground. _They must miss them greatly._

_The bond a rider and their dragon shares is one of the mind and soul, it would be odd not for the two of them to be excited at their return, _said Saphira. _I know that if you were to leave me for some time I would miss you terribly._

_And I you, _he felt guilt wash over him as he thought of what he had asked of from his servants. It ate him alive every time he thought about his favor. If there was a way for him to make it through without dying, he would find a way to make it up to Saphira.

_Hold on tight, _without warning Saphira leaned forward and like a spear dived from the air towards the ground, spinning and rotating all the while. He let out a yell, gripping one of her front spikes to keep from flying out of the saddle. Through his connection with Saphira, he could feel her immense pleasure at their flight and had to shake his head at her tactics. Saphira spread her wings and landed with a thunderous crash as she closed to the ground, jostling him slightly in his saddle. The patrol galloping towards Arya and Murtagh had bolted in the opposite direction at the sight and sound of Saphira.

_Warn me before you actually decide to take another plunge like that, _Eragon as he dismounted alighting on the ground.

_It's not like I was going to let you die, I would never be that careless._

Again, her words caused a deep pang of guilt erupt in his chest. He knew that she would never let him die, even if that meant dying herself. The thought scared him to no end. He didn't have to contemplate it for long as Arya approached him. At least he thought she was Arya. Her features resembled Arya but her eyes were level and her ears round. She also wore a forest green dress to which he raised a brow.

Catching his gaze she smiled, lightly ruffling her skirt with the back of her left hand. "Though I said I did not like to wear dresses, I was forced to during my trip." Her voice was Arya's and he knew than that she was indeed his mate.

"It matches you," said Eragon with a slight smile, feeling his tiredness and bloodlust wash away at the sight of Arya.

"I'd anticipated that you would say as much," she said. Her eyes traveled from his head and down before returning as she took in his appearance. "You look very sickly, Eragon."

"I've only a slight chill," he waved it away dismissively. She regarded him with an unbelieving gaze but did not push the thought as Eragon reached out to embrace her. Her skin, was slightly dusted in sand. It was odd to imagine that before they'd returned to the Varden, he and Arya had never sought to be in an intimate relationship with one another, but now they were. When he made to pull away, Arya's hands came up to caress his face, feeling the hotness of his skin. Her curved eyebrows furrowed in a frown. "Really, it shall go away in a few days time."

Her eyes were a startling green as she regarded him before she nodded, reaching up to kiss him. "We'll see about it at a later time, Eragon." She murmured against his lips.

Pulling away from her he turned to Murtagh, "It's good to see you are safe and unharmed, Murtagh," said Eragon. "It is good to know that you've rid Alagaesia of those wretched creatures."

"They were hardly the effort seeing as there was only four of them to defeat. It would take more than that to defeat Thorn and I," the red dragon opened his jaws a few inches before snapping them shut to emphasize his statement. "In any case, you honor me with your words, Eragon."

Eragon nodded, turning his head to see the patrol of warriors approaching, "It seems we have company," he said.

Arya nodded, "No doubt to escort us back to the Varden." She climbed onto Eridor with ease, the emerald dragon blinked his joy at her return undisguised. Eragon returned to his seat on Saphira's saddle. As a group of one, they as well as the patrol, advanced towards the sea of tents of the Varden. Eragon frowned when the congregation grew larger as more and more men joined in escorting back to the Varden. The sea of sounds made him blink. There were just too many people. His hand itched to grab his sword but he suppressed the feeling with great difficulty. Soon enough the twelve elves joined them, proclaiming their purpose and mission to Murtagh.

_It's too noisy, _he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to tune out the shouting. His ears felt ready to bleed and he thought he might go mad from the sounds that surrounded him. Maybe going to meet Arya wasn't the best ideas he had. But he missed her too much not to. He blinked again. Eventually the three of them had dismounted and Eragon remained close to Arya trying to balance the noise with her calming presence. It partially worked as the villagers from Carvahall soon joined in with the ruckus, congratulating and praising Murtagh.

_It aggravates you, doesn't it Eragon?_

He frowned, feeling sweat form on his hands as the familiar thirst to kill came back to him. He ignored the voice, but it persisted. _All of this noise, all of these people. Kill them and it will be silent. Kill them and you will achieve peace._

_No._

_Do not lie to yourself, you know as well as I do that violence arises from the emotions of others. If you were to destroy them you can bring about peace to Alagaesia. You can do it._

_No._

_Isn't that your purpose as a Rider? To bring peace to this land? Merely killing Galbatorix won't bring it. No, you have to see to it to silence all of those who seek power. Silence those who will bring about war for their own selfish ends. The Varden. The Urgals. The Dwarves. The Elves. Everyone._

A soft hand gripped his. Eragon opened his eyes to find Arya staring at him with concern. He blinked again. Not saying anything, the two of them followed Murtagh to Nasuada's pavilion where she waited for them besides King Orrin and his nobles.

Eragon released Arya's hand and went to stand by Nasuada trying to block out all of the thoughts and the thoughts of the spirit in him. She delivered a brief speech which seemed to rouse the men and women even more as they cheered and stomped. They loved Nasuada, Eragon observed, more so than King Orrin. Nasuada was a leader who could inspire such loyalty and confidence, she was fit to be a Queen.

_If we win this war, she may take up the throne after Galbatorix,_ Eragon said to Saphira. _She can unite this land like no other. Not even King Orrin with his superior intellect can amass a crowd such as this so easily._

_I've thought likewise._

Once Murtagh gave a fumbling few words to the crowd and their cheers had subsided did they retreat to Nasuada's pavilion. There more questions waited as it was filled with people. It strained Eragon's mind significantly to play the role that was expected of him as Murtagh and Arya went about answering questions and sometimes he would find the attention diverted to him. He fought to remain calm and composed with the help of Saphira's thoughts and his connection to her. But when it seemed as if he could not bear it anymore, did Saphira with the other two dragons growl in warning. And soon enough the pavilion was emptied of guests leaving them with Nasuada, Orrin, Murtagh, and Arya.

He took a seat beside Arya, who had slipped her hand into his, as if sensing his distress. Throughout the telling of their adventures, Eragon felt himself drifting in and out of reality and his own mind. Sometimes he heard the song of birds while others it was either Arya or Murtagh who spoke. _Was this madness? Not being able to differentiate reality from fantasy? _He didn't understand how his mind could deteriorate so quickly in such a short span of time but it was unraveling at the ends.

Often times, when he found himself drifting, the pressure of Arya's hand would increase slightly or Saphira's own thoughts would ground him. Honestly, he could care less of the butcher Sloan that Murtagh couldn't bring himself to kill. He would rather be sleeping than listening to his brother's struggle for justice and morality.

_What was right? What was wrong? _Eragon moved his head slightly as his thoughts began to wander again. _Was Killing justified? How does one justify it? You take one's life and you live your own. How cruel._

Without reason a small chuckle escaped him, the sound unlike him. It seemed to startle the others. Eragon glanced at them, clearing his throat. "I apologize. I was merely thinking."

"Perhaps it is better if you rest, Eragon." Nasuada's gaze turned into one of concern. "You've not been yourself lately. It would do you more harm if you were to continue to strain your mind and body."

"I agree, we cannot have the person who we dictate our cause to do himself any self harm." Eragon turned to them for a moment before nodding.

"Then I shall take my leave." He stood, sparing Arya a second glance as he withdrew his hand and made for his tent. Saphira went to accompany him but he shook his head.

_I'll be fine, no need to worry Saphira._

She was reluctant to leave him but after much resistance on his part, she relented. _Go and rest then._

_I will._

Retiring to his tent, he found himself more than ready to sleep the day away. But his dream was strange as it had been as of late.

_He stood on water that stretched as far as he could see but for some reason his body was not submerged by the liquid. It felt as solid as any ground he had stood on. The water was a crystal blue, the same as the sky overhead in which wisps of clouds floated by._

_He turned, about ten years away from was the white tomb that he often saw. It was chained shut but the metal looked like it was rusting away, corroded from an unknown source. Sitting atop the tomb was his shadow, his eyes narrowed, his expression cold._

"_You cannot hold back my power anymore, Eragon," he spoke. "The seal in your right eye is broken and its magic is fading. You've chosen your own doom when you accepted my help fighting Jeremiah."_

"_It doesn't mean I can't prolong you."_

"_How? Even if you do, my bloodlust will eat away at your mind until your entire soul is consumed by me. Then you will be nothing more than someone akin to a shade."_

"_If I take my soul back from Jeremiah, I could survive."_

_His shadow laughed. "How will you do so? The moment I leave your body, you will slowly die. And even if you do manage to win back your soul. How will you reunite it with your body? With its other half? You've lived too long without it."_

_His shadow regarded him for a moment with a feral smile. "Let me ask you a question Eragon. Do you love Arya? Does it hurt you when you think about leaving her? Leaving Saphira?"_

"_What would you know?"_

"_Nothing really. I just find emotional attachment to others bothersome. You were better off as Gabranth, without the love from others." His shadow lifted a finger he made to do a gesture but stopped and lowered his hand. "Think, the closer you become to others the more your burdens increase."_

"_Even so, I don't care. I just want to be with them. You wouldn't understand, you don't have a great enough capacity to do so." Eragon said as he regarded him._

"_You don't but they do. Once you succumb to my madness, what will they think once your servants see to it that they fulfill your wish?" his shadow asked. "A little selfish of you isn't it?"_

_Eragon didn't answer. The tomb on which his shadow sat atop made a sound. He turned to it to see a small crack running down its side. And leaking from the crack a drop of crimson liquid fell to the blue water it stood on. Once it hit the surface, the red drop diffused into the surrounding water, tinting it red._

His eyes opened when he felt a soft hand stroke his cheeks, he found Arya hovering over him. Her features returned to normal, her eyes bright in the darkness. She was dressed in her regular leather. Feeling plagued by a fever, he reached out for her and tugged her towards him and into his arms. She did not resist him but her body tensed at the sudden action. Pulling her closer to him he moved slightly for her to lie on his cot without discomfort. Never had he desired another's company like Arya's. After everything that they'd gone through, having her by his side put him at ease even if it was for just a moment.

"Stay with me," he murmured tiredly unable to comprehend what he was saying. He just wanted her to be close to him. Though her hair was slightly damp from the bath she had taken earlier, he didn't mind in to slightest. His arms came to wrap themselves around her, pulling her close enough to him that he felt her breath on his hot skin. Her skin was cool from the bath she'd taken.

Eventually her muscles relaxed and she let him embrace her. Letting out a content sigh, he buried his nose into her hair. She whispered something, but he lost it as his mind returned to a more peaceful state of sleep rather than the waking dreams that he drifted in.

The loud sound of a curse woke him in a voice that belonged to Bard. He heard the shuffle of feet in the opposite direction. Blinking, his eyes were met with a sea of dark hair. _What? _It took him a moment to realize that sleeping in his embrace was Arya. Or she was sleeping. Her eyes were open, adjusting to the light as she turned her head to stare at him.

"Good morning," she whispered slightly with a smile.

"That it is," he glanced down at her trying to remember when she had come to him. After a few moments of struggling with his thoughts, did the memory surface to him. He felt embarrassed.

She didn't seem to notice but lightly stretched within the confines of his arms like a cat. "Bard seemed to have come to wake you."

"He ran in the opposite direction for some reason."

"One can only speculate why," Eragon withdrew his arms as she made to sit. He watched as she stood and walked over to his basin, pouring water from the canteen he had set there before washing her face. Then with a towel that he folded on his table did she dry her face. After a moment he sat, refusing to move for his body ached.

"Have you been ill as of late?" she had switched to the ancient language as she wet the towel in her hands. She made her way over to him and very gently began to wipe the sweat from his own face. Though he was not an invalid, he didn't mind her treatment.

"A little," he murmured in reply. In truth he was not physically ill but the mentality he suffered from the spirit gave him symptoms of an ill person. She gently wiped his eyelids.

"Is the spirit bothering you?"

"Not quite," she waited for him to speak as she brought the towel over the bridge of his nose. "My mind hasn't been in the right balance since the battle. I feel ill every time I smell blood or hear pain. It's been unpleasant."

She frowned, her hand stilling before she continued. "So that's why you've been unable to sleep and eat?"

"More or less. But I've been getting better as of late. There hasn't been anything to upset my mind and my illness is slowly fading away. You need not worry for me, Arya." he felt another pang of guilt at having to lie to Arya in a roundabout way. He sighed, tilting his head back to glance up at her, "I'm glad that you've returned."

"As am I."

"Have you met Blodhgarm and the other elves?"

"I have."

"What do you think of them?" He was curious as to her opinion and he wanted to move away from the topic of his illness for the moment. She thought for a moment. Eragon waited patiently knowing that if she were to deliver a serious judgment it would require her some thought and time. Then after a moment she answered him.

"They are the bravest and most powerful spellcasters amongst my people for they have fought in battles on grander scales than most and survived. Devoted they are to helping the dragons and our cause."

He thought as much. "They are very polite."

"Should they not be?"

He shrugged as Arya placed the towel on the table done with her task. But she didn't make to sit, instead she continued to stand before him, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Blodhgarm seems interested in Rosalie more so than normal."

"Does it bother you?"'

"I'm just curious as to why."

"I would assume that her origins and the fact that she can be compared to an elf seem to draw his attention." He nodded, he thought as much when he'd first met the elf.

"Do you think he has a wonderful aroma?" Eragon asked.

At his question, her lips twitched and her eyebrows rose. "Though it may be a good aroma, I am more partial to another's scent." To prove her point, she bent down to breathe in his scent. He smiled at her pleased by her response. She always seemed to know how to ease his mind.

"They know that you and I are mates?" Arya nodded. "Do they approve?"

Her lips curled into a frown and she gave him a look akin to disapproval. It had been a while since he'd seen that expression on her face, "Whether they approve or not does not matter for our union does not concern them."

"I know, I was just curious."

Arya nodded, her hands gently messaging his shoulders of their own accord. He watched as she thought for a moment before a smile made its way back onto her face, "There is a place I would like to show you once we invade the Empire." Eragon waited. "Murtagh and I found it and there is a gift awaiting you there."

"A gift?"

"Yes," she sat beside him. Eragon instinctively turned to her. Though he may be inexperienced in the areas of intimacy, lately his mind had instructed him in multiple ways on how to approach Arya. All of which seemed to work, so he took some comfort in his own natural instincts. He leaned forward to kiss her for a brief moment reminding himself of her exquisite taste before pulling away. Then she began to explain to him the spirits that came to her and Murtagh at night and the golden rose that was bestowed upon them out of their gratitude towards Eragon.

"When we get the chance, I would like to show it to you."

"And I would like to see it." In the back of his mind he felt sadness and guilt overwhelm him as he thought of the idea that he might not be able to accompany her when the time came. She smiled at him unaware of the pain that plagued him. He returned it hoping that he would not have to leave her. In his heart, he wanted to stay at her side until the ends of time.

**It's not that great is it? (Sigh) I've tried my best but at least we're at 1,000 reviews! Oh, and about the questions for lemons. They will surely and slowly start coming into play soon. But the first one shall not have Arya and Eragon getting at it. Because I just don't see Arya as the type to actually give in so soon. Eragon's going to have to work his way there (however wrong that sounds) But it'll be an interesting sce**


	50. Chapter 45

**This chapter I'd planned to upload in a few more days but I've decided to give it to you all as a gift for making it to the 1,000 Review mark. I don't think I've ever been happier. But this is also to make up for my last chapter that I felt was very lacking. Anyways, I've put a lot of thought into writing this chapter because it plays out to the entire story one way or another. You know what though? I think my creative writing skills are actually paying off, that course wasn't usless after all. (I'm kidding, I'm actually writing my own book but I've gotten far into it seeing that I'm busy with this story. But it's looking pretty good!) Anyways, enjoy reading this chapter.**

Jumping backwards, Eragon twisted as he turned about to bring up his sword to deflect Desdemona's blow to his neck. If he wasn't fast enough she could have done serious harm to him. With a bit of elegant footsteps, Eragon jabbed her in her side watching as she stumbled backwards from the pain of the blow. Feeling Rosalie's presence behind him, he retreated with a jump, but he wasn't quick enough for she brought down her sword and it came into contact with his shins. He winced. Stumbling a bit as he backtracked, Eragon brought his free hand up grab a hold of Finny's arm as he charged towards him and threw the boy ten yards away, watching as he went careening through the ground. And though his fall was serious, he immediately sprung to his feet seconds later.

The sound of metal cutting the air made him turn as he brought up his sword to lock it at the hilt with Rosalie's and Desdemona's swords. For a moment they stood there struggling against one another until Eragon with his supernatural strength pushed them backwards. His achievement was short lived when he felt a bout of pain erupt in the back of his head.

Turning despite the daze he was in, he kicked Finny roughly in the stomach sending him flying backwards fifteen yards. The distraction gave Rosalie and Desdemona the due time to make it back to their feet and spring forward. They were getting better, Eragon thought, as he parried and countered their blows. For the past few days of sparring they were able to hold their own with great success.

Turning to let Rosalie's sword pass through the space in which he once stood, he grimaced in pain when he felt Desdemona's sword slash him across his chest. His heart gave an agonizing beat in his chest. And he saw the familiar tint of red color his vision. Feeling his arm move of its own accord, he watched as he struck down Rosalie with a resounding jut to the gut with his elbow. A pained cry escaped her lips as she fell to her knees.

_Stop. _Eragon blinked, staring down at Rosalie who coughed slightly a dark liquid covering her lips. He must have broken a rib. Bending down to help her, he grunted when he felt a log smash into the side of his face sending him tumbling into the ground. Sliding for a good ten feet, he blinked when he felt a warm liquid cover the side of his face. A few paces away from him he heard Desdemona berate Finny as she went to help her female companion.

Healing the cut on the side of his head, he moved into a sitting position. Eragon brought up a hand to wipe at the blood coating the side of his face. His heart gave another loud beat in his chest as he beheld the sticky crimson substance. A hand entered his field of vision; he glanced up to find that it was Murtagh.

Unease filled him, though he and Murtagh were both half-brothers, the best they did in each other's presence was breach a polite form of mannerism. He did not know how to act around Murtagh, nor Roran, or Brom for that matter. His strained relationship with them was a foreign matter to him entirely. He didn't pursue to better it like he did with his relationship with Arya, but kept it untouched. For he was sure that if he tried to better things between him and Murtagh or the others in his family, it would only work more to estrange them.

He ignored the hand and stood, dusting himself off before making his way towards his servants. "Why do you always do that?"

Eragon stopped, barely moving five paces before Murtagh spoke. He didn't turn to face his brother but instead remained facing forward. "Do what?"

"Ignore help?"

"It's none of your concerns."

Murtagh gave a snort, "I don't understand it. How come you're allowed to know the concerns of others and yet remain ignorant of help from those around you?"

Eragon turned to face him. What has brought on this sudden confrontation with Murtagh? In his heart, he felt a slight shard of hope. "What are you implying Murtagh?"

"The reason I'm alive is because you saved my life back in Gil'ead. You helped me to escape with Arya and the last egg. And you saved my life again when you came to my rescue in Farthen Dur knowing that it was Durza who was waiting for you." Murtagh said his mouth curved downwards. "And the reason Arya came after me while I was in the Empire was for you."

"Don't waste my time telling me things that I already know and get to the heart of the matter, Murtagh."

"Since you want honesty than I'll be blunt with you, _brother,_" Murtagh said with a set expression. "You've told me that you resent me because I grew up with the love of others and hidden away from Galbatorix and that Brom had overseen me. And I understand that it hurts to know that your father was caring for the son of his enemy. What I don't understand is how you're letting your one chance to be with him slip through your fingers. He isn't getting any younger and fairly, I think you're sinking into hypocrisy."

"_What?_" Eragon hissed, his eyes narrowing as Murtagh's words floated over to him.

"If my father was half the man that Brom was, I would be happy to love him unconditionally. To know that he was such a man, but my father isn't. My father was Morzan, a traitor to the Dragon Riders, a traitor to Alagaesia. I wish that I could have someone as Brom as my father, but I don't and I accept that fact. But if Brom was my father, I would treasure my time with him above all else." Murtagh said.

Eragon felt his face flush with anger; he had grown to tolerate Murtagh, even like him. Now, he felt as if he was staring into the face of an idiot. "Don't you dare criticize me. You don't have the right to, _Murtagh."_

"And why can't I?" Murtagh challenged. "I'm your older brother by birth right. What makes it impossible for me not to criticize you?"

He took a step closer to Murtagh, his face set into a scowl. Whatever his brother was trying to do was grating on his nerves. He was not in the mood to tolerate this. "The fact that I always have to watch out for you, your decisions are whimsical and you cause more blunders than achievements. The thing you don't understand is that you are totally helpless to others."

He knew that his statement would anger Murtagh, but he was still surprised when he felt a fist collide with his face sending him stumbling backwards. Almost immediately, his servants who stood by the side watching the ongoing sprang forward their weapons drawn ready to engage Murtagh. Anger flushing his body, he brought his own fist up to land his own blow at Murtagh.

Within a flash, the twelve elves guarding him appeared their own weapons drawn and then it was a stand off between Eragon and Murtagh. "Stand down!"Eragon growled to his servants. They hesitated unsure of his request.

"My lord—"

"Do as I say!" he turned to Murtagh a fierce expression on his face.

Murtagh glanced at his guards with a similar expression of anger. "I can handle this myself! I don't need your protection." When they didn't comply, he growled. "Don't interfere with family matters!"

After a moment they sheathed their weapons and went to stand on the side with Eragon's servants, the two groups ready to jump into help if their assistance was needed. Murtagh turned his head back to Eragon, his face flushed from anger. "I'll show you how helpless I am."

With that he yelled and launched himself at Eragon who stood his ground waiting for his brother to reach him. Dodging a fist to his head, he brought his own up in a right hook, slamming against Murtagh's face knocking his brother sideways. Not relenting, Eragon followed him, slamming his knee into his gut. Before he could do anymore, Murtagh gripped both of his arms and to Eragon's own astonishment slammed his head into his own. Pain erupted in his forehead as he stumbled backwards. Almost immediately Murtagh's own fist came into contact with his jaw sending him sprawling to the ground. "You may be a master at the swords but when it comes to fistfights I've years of experience!"

Eragon scowled as he rolled to the side a little, bringing up his feet to kick Murtagh in the hip, missing as his brother rolled after him, striking him in the gut with his elbow, he grunted. If it weren't for his sturdy body, his ribs would've no doubt cracked. Bringing up his knee, Eragon kneed him in the torso knocking the wind out of him. Gaining the upper hand, he stood on his feet as did Murtagh. Without allowing for him to regain his bearings, Eragon charged ramming him with his right shoulder into the ground.

It was a foolish thing to do, Eragon thought as they wrestled with one another, delivering blows that could easily kill any animal or human if it weren't for their wards or own strengths. It was needed, however. It seemed as if a test between the two of them, to see whether or not they could truly be brothers. To see whether or not they could really move past their differences.

He grunted as Murtagh had abandoned his grace and balance for a more reckless attempt. Eragon frowned meeting him halfway as they lunged for each other, the other refusing to back down. "You idiot! Why do you always complicate things?" Murtagh growled as he dodged a blow to the head from Eragon.

"Idiot? That is rich coming from the boy who barely knew his letters! You have no right to call me an idiot when you look and act like one!" Eragon replied letting out all of his pent up frustration as he dodge Murtagh's own blows. The frustration at having to live with a spirit in his body. Of lying to Arya and Saphira. Or tricking his own mother of his condition. Of asking the inevitable from his servants. Fighting with Murtagh was the only release he found.

"Me? You say you resented Brom when he cared for me in Carvahall. Well you don't see me resenting mother when she abandoned me to care for you in Uru'baen. At least you had her love!" He kicked at Eragon's shin which was already bruised earlier from Rosalie's attack. He grimaced ignoring the pain as he wrapped his arms around Murtagh in a rather vicious headlock.

"How would you feel if you saw her saddened by the life she led? What would you think when you couldn't help your own mother! Tell me, Murtagh!" Eragon tightened his grip on his brother, as if to strangle him which caused the elves to stir in alarm. But before they could act, Murtagh threw him off after a moment of struggling.

"I would've done something! Rather than accept fate I would have fought, even if that meant death!" Eragon felt distaste color his thoughts as he heard Murtagh's words. Always one to act on emotions rather than reason. That was where they were different. "And you, ever since you've joined the Varden you've been as stubborn as a mule refusing our hand. The only person you would ever turn to is Arya and not your own family!"

Eragon's expression darkened as he spun about kicking Murtagh in the head. "Don't you bring her into this," Eragon said panting slightly from the exertions of their reckless attacks and behaviors.

"Why? Does it bother you that I bring in your mate towards our family matters? What will you do, Eragon?" He frowned, anger flashing across his as he ran forward to deliver a hard blow to Murtagh's right shoulder. And again they tumbled to the ground in a flurry of kicks and punches, each trying to gain leverage on the other. Eragon managed to get his feet underneath Murtagh's to kick him mightily in the chest sending him flying upside down over his head as he landed with a thump.

"At least I have Arya by my side." Eragon grunted as Murtagh threw himself atop of him. "I can't say the same for you though."

"Even so, you should still allow us to help you." Murtagh rolled atop of him, gaining the upper hand as he pinned Eragon to the ground, before knocking him squarely in the jaw. "It may not be as much but it will still lighten your burdens! I'm tired of watching my brother at odds with his family. Why can't you reach out to us?"

Eragon frowned, rolling them about until he was hovering over Murtagh, delivering the blows. "What can you do to help me? When you can't even defend yourself? How will you help me? Words do not mean anything not unless you take action upon them."

They rolled again, "Words can help ease your pain. As long as there is sincerity behind them. I would know and I believe you would too if you let us in to help. Brom is always shamed that he couldn't raise you and whenever he tries to breach the gap that his mistake has made, you refuse to let him. Mother is saddened every time she tries to care for you but you never give her the chance to."

Eragon blinked as he let Murtagh's words wash over him. And what about Murtagh he wondered? "I've always wanted family. Growing up in Carvahall as a foster child in Uncle Garrow's home has made it clear to me. And now I can have one with my mother and Brom, and Roran and Katrina, but you refuse to let it happen and I'm sick of it!"

His vision flashed before his eyes when Murtagh landed a particularly heavy blow to the side of his head where Finny had hit him earlier. "I know I'm foolish and naïve but at least I can acknowledge help from others and move past mistakes to forge a better future!" Eragon threw Murtagh off of him and stood, wiping the blood staining his chin as he rubbed his jaw, panting heavily.

He thought the same as well but he had been too fearful to take that step. Past hurts and demons had kept him from moving forward like Murtagh could. Eragon clenched his fist putting all of his pain and anger into it as he moved ran forward, yelling. Murtagh came to meet him, his own fist rising up to meet him. Their hits landed, squarely on each other's jaw sending them off their feet and into the ground. They fell five yards apart from one another, breathing heavily as they tried to regain their breath. Then for a moment a laugh escaped Murtagh, Eragon frowned and turned to his brother. Had he lost his sense? For a brief moment he thought he might have hit him too hard on the head and might have caused him brain damage.

"Have you finally lost your mind?" Eragon asked warily from where he laid.

Murtagh's chuckle was his reply. "Maybe I have. Normally I would never bring this up with you but it has been threatening to make its way out. You're more trouble than anyone I've ever met."

"And you're more foolish than anyone _I've _ever met," Eragon said. Then he scoffed. "Forge a better future? How cliché of you."

"It was the only phrase that came to my mind at the moment. I apologize for lacking eloquence. I was riled up."

"Shut up and quit being polite," he said as he laid there for a moment. "I know you want to hit me in the face again."

"I do."

"Then that settles it, I also want to hit you once more but after the brawl we've just finished, let's wait for another day to continue," he moved into a sitting position finally feeling the pain of Murtagh's blows. He would have to heal them before they bruised. He heard Murtagh get to his feet and then a hand entered his field of vision. Eragon stared at it for a moment before he sighed and he gripped it allowing Murtagh to help him to his feet. When he stood, he winced feeling his wounds burn.

"It seems as if a crowd has come to watch us," Murtagh said amused as he released Eragon's hand. He looked worse for wear. Where Eragon had struck him, he was already forming light purple bruises. His lip was split and bleeding and there was a cut above his eye. Eragon turned and indeed a crowd had formed but not of warriors but of his family. Arya and Nasuada stood at the forefront their expressions torn between amusement and exasperation. Next to them was his father how was gently supporting his mother on her feet and behind them was Roran and Katrina.

Eragon glanced at his servants and they shrugged, guilty. They had called them to watch. "What made you decide to say those things to me?" Eragon asked curiously as he turned to face his brother.

"A rather wise person," he said his eyes moving towards Nasuada. Surprise flushed Eragon; he didn't suspect that Nasuada was worried over his family affairs. But then again, the Varden was her family and if it was in trouble or in need of mending she would always step in to lend a hand. Eragon snorted before rubbing his chest a little to ease the pain. "You look ridiculous, you know."

He raised a brow at Murtagh, "You've no right to say that when you look as if an Urgal has taken to you." Turning from him he made his way towards his family, hearing Murtagh's footsteps behind him as he followed. When they reached them, Eragon made to bow to Nasuada but the pain in his torso made him wince.

Noticing, Nasuada shook her head, "It's alright Eragon; you're certainly in no state to practice proper politics at the moment." Amusement was on her expression as she gazed at the two of them. "I hope that you've both settled your differences?"

"We did." Eragon and Murtagh murmured as they stood there trying to ease the pain from their body.

"Good, now the both of you can work in conjunction with one another," though she'd tried to play it off as an action in favor of the Varden, he knew that it was for Murtagh's sake that she'd urged him to take action. She truly did feel for his brother Eragon thought.

"Who thought that my brother would be as stubborn as a mule?" Murtagh said as he took in a deep breath that seemed to pain him slightly.

"Me? Stubborn as a mule?" Eragon turned to him, his expression cool. "At least I don't go about acting like a _fool._" And it was true for the day before he had bumped into Angela who had kept him for a good hour describing Murtagh's actions in healing Elva and how the child was now fear to do what she wanted.

He smiled the split in his lips widening blood dripping down. "I can admit to that folly in my personality. Brothers?"

Eragon stared at his outstretched hand for a moment and all around them, no one moved, breathed, or blinked as they waited for his reaction. He glanced at it for a moment then turned his head away as he took his outstretched hand. "Brothers." He murmured softly.

All around them a collective breath was released. Eragon turned to them raising a brow as if he'd seen them for the first time. Arya stepped forward her hands coming up to ran along his light bruises. Unlike Nasuada, exasperation had won over for her as her emerald eyes took in his appearance. "You look delightfully frightful."

Eragon smiled somewhat wincing at the pain that it caused. _Delightfully frightful?_

_She's right, you know. _He turned his head slightly to face Saphira as the dragons bore down on them. Her feelings bordered disapproval and amusement. _You look like a person who was tossed like a ragdoll on boulders._

_I'm sorry for my poor appearance but my emotions got the best of me, _Eragon said as he gazed at her slightly surprised that she didn't intervene. _Why didn't you?_

_Because Thorn had asked that I didn't, _his eyes traveled to the ruby dragon. _He wanted to help Murtagh ease his relationship with you and it seems that the only way for the two of you to go about doing so is to beat each other senseless. How childish of the both of you._

He grinned at her reaching forward to gently stroke her snout earning an affectionate puff of air from her. His eyes returned to Arya who had healed the bruises on his face while he was busy conversing with Saphira. "It must have been something to see."

"Two dragon riders scrambling on the ground to deliver kicks and blows," her eyes shined with amusement. "It was a sight, I would give you that."

The sound of uneven footsteps made his glance towards his mother who was making her way towards them, her expression set into a stern frown. He knew that look and had often seen if as a child when he was in trouble. Arya released him and with a smile, stepped aside for his mother to approach both him and Murtagh, her lips pursed, her brows furrowed. "Why are all the men in this family idiots?" the question was amusing but her tone was not and for once he could see why his mother could faire so well as Morzan's Black Hand. "Why can't you just settle things without the use of your fists? Was it too much to merely trust in words? No, you had to go rolling around on the ground to prove your point. If I wasn't so far along with child I would've smacked you two senseless by now!"

"Mother, it's not good for you to get angered in your condition," Eragon said as he stared at her.

Her eyes narrowed, "I've been on much more perilous journeys than carrying a child. And because you two are unable to behave yourselves, I must watch to see that you don't end up making a public embarrassment of yourselves. Honestly, what were you thinking?"

"We weren't." Murtagh mumbled, slightly embarrassed but Eragon could see the happiness his mother had invoked within his brother as he waited for her to continue her tirade.

"Selena, maybe you should sit and we can talk about this later," Brom murmured, though Eragon could see a slight smile in his beard.

"Father's right," Surprised, Eragon glanced over at Murtagh who stared at him waiting for him to challenge him yet again. After a moment, he sighed. Brom was by all means his mother's husband so that did make Murtagh his son, by law.

"Yes, father's right," Eragon repeated.

Her mother glanced at him for a moment, as if not believing his easy surrender before she sighed. "You two are both stubborn as mules. It'll take more than merely words to move you, it seems." She gestured to their faces. "Go get cleaned and come to our tent, we're going to have dinner together." Turning she gestured towards Arya and Nasuada. "I hope you two won't mind joining us, you're very much family as is Roran and Katrina and I fear it will take two intelligent females to balance the idiocy of my sons. Maybe Angela was right they are quite…"

Eragon stared after him glancing at Murtagh out of the corner of his eyes, his brother shrugged. Then with a last word to each other made to return to their tents to change and clean themselves, not to mention heal the amounts of bruises that they'd received throughout the brawl. Saphira had left with his mother with a last thought; _I'll see you at their tent and do take care not to get into anymore fights. You might actually end up hurting yourself._

When he was alone in his own tent did he finally let the weight of what happened sink in. He had accepted and allowed Murtagh as well as his family past the final barriers that he had built. But it wasn't going to last, he thought, as he stared at his reflection in the basin. He reached up to touch his right eye. When it happened, it would only bring pain to them. He couldn't bear it. Gripping the edge of the table, he blinked when it cracked underneath the pressure of his hands.

_What's wrong, Eragon? Are you afraid? _He blinked glancing down at the water to find a person staring out at him that looked like him but his eyes were a cold azure and violet. He blinked and only his reflection stared up at him. _The time has almost come and soon your soul will be nonexistent._

Eragon closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. Whatever happens, happens. There was no changing it and it was pointless to try. Glancing at the basin again he left for his parents' tent to find a table already set up and his family seated all around with the inclusion of Nasuada and his servants as they prepared to eat. Murtagh was already there, sitting on between Brom and Nasuada. The only seat open was to his mother's right directly across his father and next to Arya.

He took it and the conversations around the table seemed to diminish slightly before regaining momentum. His mother had reached forward to set a plate before him that was filled with his favorite food. Blueberry muffins, baked potato dipped in melted cheese, and seasoned green beans. Picking up a fork he began to eat, thanking his mother.

Around him, he heard Murtagh speaking, "Katrina and Roran are to be married tomorrow, mother."

"Oh? That soon?" at the expressions on their faces understanding dawned on her and she nodded. "Who is to marry you?"

"Murtagh," Eragon took a bite of his baked potato as he stared at his cousin in interest. "I thought that there was no one better to do the job in tying mine and Katrina's hands together for life."

"Don't cause a blunder tomorrow," Brom said gruffly despite the smile on his face. Eragon nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing.

"It would be a shame if you did something to ruin a ceremony so beautiful," he stared at Roran before his eyes flitted to Katrina. "Congratulations on your matrimony it seems."

Roran nodded to him at a loss for words while Katrina hesitantly smiled. She was more welcoming than her betrothed Eragon thought. "Thank you…cousin."

He regarded her with surprise for a moment before he turned back to his plate before him. "Are you and Arya to marry?" The question made his stop his fork halfway to his mouth. He glanced at Arya who smiled at Katrina seemingly at ease with her question.

"Elves do not marry, we take one another as mates but due to our long lives, marriage is a practice that we do not hold high in our culture," her eyes turned to Eragon bright and green. "Eragon and I are simply mates."

Katrina nodded politely, before her curiosity seemed to get the better of her, "If it's not rude of me, may I ask how Ellesmera looks like? I've always heard of it and it sounds very beautiful from all accounts."

To his surprise, Arya actually described the forest to Katrina. He had thought she would refuse on grounds that it was too confidential but speaking of her home seemed to put her at ease. As Eragon stared at her he felt a familiar ache in his heart at the thought of relinquishing her and his new found ease with his family.

He didn't want to. Never in his life had he wanted anything as much as to stay by their sides with them and to see them through this war. But time was slipping through his fingers like water. He kept his expression calm but underneath his emotions was like a turbulent thunder storm ready to break through the surface. Life was cruel and unfair. As his eyes moved from his mother to his father and down the table, he felt the pain in his heart deepen as he knew that he would not likely be with them towards the end of the war.

He stopped on Saphira gazing at her from where she laid with Eridor watching them with sparkling eyes. He loved her beyond anything not only because of their bond but because of them time they'd spent together, through think and thin. Leaving her would break her heart but he wouldn't have it any other way, if the spirit consumed his soul then he wished for his servants to see their promise to him through. His eyes drifted to Arya as she sat speaking to Katrina and the others.

Another ache washed over him, he didn't want to leave her either. The pain it would cause her. He closed his eyes for a moment taking in a deep breath, he wouldn't think about it. They were here and he didn't want to upset or worry her with his depressed behavior. Burying the pain deep inside him, he turned listened in on the conversation often times answering when a question was directed at him.

**Now, I've prolonged the conflict for too long and I want to see this story take off already. SoI hope you're all ready for some action and violence and drama. And maybe some sadness. (It might invoke tears or not) Anyways, the next few chapters are going to be serious and emotional, so I'm going to take some time on those and proofread them to insanity for my Beta is still out for another week or two.**


	51. Chapter 46

**Today is Sunday! And I've decided to post this for anyone of you who have to return to school the following Monday. What a bummer! Anways, I couldn't wait to post this chapter, but the one after it I'm going to revise and edit for some time to make it seem right and nice.**

It was an excruciating task to wake next morning but seeing as it was his cousin's wedding, he had an obligation to him to attend. And it would no doubt hearten his friends and families to see him out and about. Shaking off the ache in his bones, he made his way towards the clearing where the wedding was to take place. Murtagh had asked that he come to assist and get to know the people that he'd grown up with. He begrudgingly accepted the offer for his mother was observing him with such a keen eye it was impossible to deny it.

He and Saphira walked towards Murtagh and Thorn where they waited beside Elain, one of the women from Carvahall who was also with a child. His eyes searched for Blodhgarm and the other elves but he couldn't see them. It didn't bother him for he knew that they were hidden somewhere close in case Murtagh was in any danger.

"Looks like you've made it brother," Murtagh said, Eragon regarded him with a tired expression before sighing. What was he doing here? No one in this village welcomed him and it made it harder to try to manage a polite attitude with them. "We've to be put to work and cook."

"Cook?" He frowned, he didn't like cooking not on a regular basis though. "I'll call Rosalie and Desdemona, they can do it."

Murtagh shook his head, "No, we'll have to do it ourselves. Besides, those two are with mother. You wouldn't want to leave her unguarded would you?"

He stared at Murtagh for a moment with a frown but didn't refute him. He was right, he thought reluctantly. He gestured at Elain. She regarded Eragon with cautious eyes as she stood with both of her hands pressed into the small of her back trying to relieve the weight of her pregnancy and for a moment she reminded him so much of his mother. "It's not good for your condition to be up and about so much. You should rest more." Eragon caught himself and fell silent. How embarrassing…

She glanced at him partly amused her caution fading slightly, before she gestured towards a line of planks set on stumps that six women were using as a counter, "There are still twenty loaves of bread dough that have to be kneaded. Will you see to it, please?"

After a nudge by Saphira, Eragon followed Murtagh towards the women who promptly fell silent when they approached. Murtagh introduced him to the six however awkward the moment was. He tried to memorize all of their names and faces. There was Birgit, Felda, Isold, and three others whom he couldn't remember. Ignoring their conversations, Eragon was intent on making the bread to the best of his abilities. As he worked, he felt a memory tug at him.

_His mother was roughly kneading a bowl of flour, often times pouring water into the bowl to keep the dough at a right state. Not too stick, not too dry. He barely reached her waist at the time and it was a challenge to even try to look over the counter. She was very beautiful, Eragon thought as he stared up at his mother. Her eyes were bright and a smile played on her lips as she continued to work._

"_Mother," he tugged at her apron._

_She paused glancing down at him, her brown eyes—his eyes—filled with warmth. "What is it, Eragon?"_

_He pointed at the tabletop, "Can I try?"_

"_Don't you want to play with the other children?"_

_He shook his head. He didn't care for the other children within in Uru'baen. He only cared for his mother. He never wanted to leave her. His mother glanced at him for a moment before bending down and lifting him up so he sat on the tabletop. Though the white flour stained his clothing, he didn't care. "Watch me do it, Eragon and then you can try."_

_He nodded and sat with his legs crossed, his hands in his lap as he leaned forward slightly to watch her hands knead the dough. His mother laughed at his intensity to the task but resumed her kneading. Her hands were very graceful as she concentrated on kneading, after a moment she placed another bowl on top of the table and made another small dough ball. This one she placed before him._

"_Now you try, Eragon."_

_He nodded, and began to knead the dough intently. It was harder than it looked. The dough was sticky and when he kneaded it too roughly or for too long it became too dry. After a moment, his mother went to check on his progress, a smile on her lips as she took in his dough or what was left of it. "It's not the best but you'll get better Eragon._

_He frowned causing his mother's smile to widen as she bent down to peck him on the forehead. "I'll teach you again. And then maybe you can cook me bread to eat one day."_

"_Okay."_

"You seem to be doing really well," it was Birgit who spoke to him as she checked his kneading.

His reply was quiet, "Thank you." He didn't know how to act around them and preferred silence over conversation. Nearby Saphira and Thorn were relaxing as the children from Carvahall ran about them playing and shouting with joy. To be so young and happy…As he worked, he observed Murtagh as he spoke freely with those in the clearing for he knew everyone from his time in Carvahall. That was his home. _Where was his? _Murtagh had grown up with all of these people in the clearing. He knew each one some on a more personal level than others.

It just made Eragon realize just how small his world was before he'd left Uru'baen. _Could I have been_ _like Murtagh?_ Ignoring that thought, he nearly wanted to leave when the six women about him began to share bawdy jokes about the groom, who was his cousin even though Eragon barely knew him. The tip of his ears burned and he fought not to think of Arya whenever a joke came up. It was disrespectful. Beside him, Murtagh's face was flushed with heat and he was staring intently down at his dough.

A single horn rang out across the land, unnaturally loud.

Then again.

And again.

As everyone froze in place, Eragon turned as Saphira made to stand on her feet the children always scampering away for their parents. He jumped onto Saphira as she surged into the air. He knew it was just too calm. If Jeremiah attacked, he was going to make sure that he had what was coming to him. _Fly to the north entrance, Saphira._

_What about your armor?_

He thought about it for a moment before scowling. _Forget it. We need to hurry to Nasuada. _She complied and flew north, alighting upon the crest of one of the embankments that ringed the camp. Nasuada was already there, sitting upon her charger. Beside her was Jormundur, also mounted; Arya atop of Eridor, his servants and countless others. And from what he could tell they had hastily donned their armor. Soon enough Murtagh joined them, tugging on his bracers.

"Who challenges?" Eragon asked as he closed upon them.

"Look." Nasuada pointed.

Roughly two miles away, five sleek boats had landed upon the near bank of the Jiet River. From the boats there issued a swarm of men. He recognized the armor as Galbatorix's. Arya shaded her eyes with a hand and squinted at the soldiers. "I put their number between two hundred seventy and three hundred."

Something was wrong, Eragon thought as he gazed at the soldiers that had formed orderly ranks before marching towards the Varden's camp. Why would Galbatorix send so few? He thought about it for a moment. He had learned underneath the dark king, he knew his mind and he knew what he sought. He must have another plan. This was merely a diversion.

"He does not plan to overwhelm us," Eragon said after a moment. "That force is just merely to divert the attentions of our warriors for a moment. We must be careful."

"Why is that?" King Orrin regarded him with driving eyes. "Do you believe us too weak to hold off such a small force?"

"No, I'm merely stating that Galbatorix has made an underhanded move to make sure that he can hold the Varden long enough for him to accomplish his goal. I've served him and I would know how great of a magician he is. He had given those soldiers magical enchantments for he would never risk the lives of his men for a worthless end."

"Then we must take great care not to let ourselves become too overly confident," said Nasuada.

The horn sounded again, so loudly that Eragon, Arya, Murtagh, and the rest of the elves covered their ears. He frowned, how unneeded. A movement in the sky caught his eyes. Glancing at it, he felt his anger well up within him as he saw that ebony beast flying towards the Varden, and atop of him in his polished armor was Jeremiah and from what Eragon saw he was not missing his arm that he had severed in their last battle. _My revenge…_

As they closed, Eragon ignored everything else that went on about him as he stared intently at Jeremiah. He felt it again, the feeling of another force drawing him in. His soul. He had to take it back from him. It was his only chance to do so now. _Saphira, let's—_he grunted when he felt his heart give out slightly in his chest before regaining its tempo beating at such a fast rate it felt ready to give out. _Not now. _Slumping forward slightly in Saphira's saddle, he tried to take in a deep breath.

"Eragon?" Alarm was in Murtagh's voice as he watched him. "What's wrong?"

Eragon shook his head, "I'm fine. I'll fight—"

His heart gave another painful thud. His vision flashed red as he felt the tugging sensation at his heart and soul grow stronger. "No, Arya and I will fight off Jeremiah. The two of us are more than enough. You fight on feet with King Orrin, least of all he'll get himself killed."

_King Orrin? _He glanced about, the king was missing as well as Garzhvog and his Urgals. He turned his head and saw them confronting the soldiers that had come by ships. He gazed at Murtagh and Arya for a moment, "Fly safely then, Arya…Brother."

Murtagh's face was hard and set while Arya's was alerted. They held each other's gazes for a moment before Thorn and Eridor took to the sky flying towards Jeremiah. _Let's go support King Orrin, Saphira._

_Are you sure?_

_I'm fine. Let's go._

She bounded forward with great leaps towards the place where King Orrin's cavalry and Garzhvog and his Urgals had intercepted the king's men. From what Eragon saw they were holding their own rather well. Every soldier they came into contact with fell underneath their weapons. He watched them for a moment, then a chill came down his spine as he watched one soldier a spear protruding from his chest rise back to his feet. There was no spell to bring back the dead, which he knew for sure. And a wound like that would incapacitate any normal person with agonizing pain.

_Pain!_

_What is it Saphira? _Eragon asked as he watched the man grab his sword, he strung his bow and aimed for the man's heart and unleashed the arrow watching as it pierced the man in the heart sending him toppling to the ground. This time he did not rise.

_Galbatorix must have used magic to block their ability to feel pain. Who else would it explain that they can rise back up after being pierce in the chest by the spear? The only way to kill them is to make sure that their body will be unable to rise again._

_So that means either by severing their heads or stabbing them in the heart. _He slung his bow across his back again as he drew his sword. Dismounting Saphira he ran towards to the fray, watching as fallen soldiers rise again to attack the Varden's warriors after they'd turned their backs.

Dispatching one by cleanly severing his head, Eragon raised his voice with the use of magic. "Behead them! Stab them in the heart! Do not leave them with your back turns!" Hearing his advice, they took to it and the amount of confusion seemed to be reduced as they fought. Moving forward, Eragon kicked up a spear and with another kick sent it flying into a soldier's head.

As he did so, he felt his heart give a tug again as the scent of blood made its way to his nose. His vision flashed red and his hand moved of its own accord as it pierced another soldier through the heart with his sword. A demented laugh rose up from the fighting around him while another erupted in his mind. He grimaced at the pain his mind was experiencing. Regaining control of his body, he sidestepped a slash to his chest and effectively snapped the neck of his enemy.

Above them bellows tore through the air with such force it made him pause in his attacks for a moment. Eridor and Thorn were flying about the beast with such skill it was impressive and every time they bit the beast, a chunk of rotting meat fell from the sky. Moving forward, he brought his sword down upon every person within his way, not taking into mind who they were as long as his blade severed their head from the neck.

_Thump._

He grunted clutching at his chest as his heart gave an agonizing thump in his chest. He tried to shrug it off as he grabbed a dagger from the ground to stab a man to his side in the heart. But it kept persisting, his vision fading into red, the lines becoming slightly blurry. His hands shook slightly. Eragon coughed lightly. Falling into place besides King Orrin, Eragon ignored the ache in his body and the red in his vision as he waited for the king's orders.

"Eragon, show these blasted soldiers our might!" King Orrin had lost all of his bearings. His face was flushed and his eyes wild. Saphira roared to the side crushing a soldier with the strength of her jaws. He nodded and started forward, his blade flashing in the sunlight. Overhead the battle between Arya and Murtagh against Jeremiah was still going strong but he could tell who the clear winner was. Jeremiah's beast was barely holding it together against the might of Eridor and Thorn.

As he fought, he heard a pained bellow overhead. Arya had managed to stab Jeremiah through the gut, his eyes drifted upwards and he watched as she caught an item that sparkled in the sunlight. Was that a mirror? Before he could think of it more, a demented laugh rose up from the man standing forty feet away from him. He was injured greatly but he didn't show signs of falling. Eragon stared at him as his vision blurred again. The sound of his laugh angered him.

He stared at the man, slightly stumbling as he felt his heart give out again before resuming to beat at an erratic speed. The demented laugh rang in his ears paining his mind. "What's so funny?" Eragon asked the man as he stared at him.

The man just continued to laugh, "You, lord Gabranth."

"What did you say?"

"Your pitiful existence is amusing."

Within the blink of an eye, Eragon was upon the man. Instead of using his sword to pierce the man's heart, his left hand came up and like a dagger tore through his armor and though his skin into the other side of his chest. He withdrew his hand, blood dripping from his forearm and down. A wave of humor seized him and he couldn't understand why it was so funny but it made him laugh. It started off as a small chuckle before it grew into a laugh more demented then the ones that erupted from the soldiers.

Why was he laughing? He didn't know anymore. Death was funny. Living was funny. Stifling his laughter he jumped to the side landing on a soldier, standing he crushed the man's head with his boot. He laughed again. As he stood there, his vision tinted red and fading, a sharp piece of metal pierced his side. Vaguely he thought about the fact that it was his own fault for not wearing armor.

He laughed, not feeling the pain.

Grabbing the soldier who had pierce him in his side he crushed his head between his hands and with a squelch pulled the spear coated in a dark liquid from his side. When he stared down at the red liquid pouring out from his side, he couldn't register the fact that he was actually wounded. Instead he watched the torrent of crimson pour onto the ground. His heart gave a thump, his vision began to fade.

That was when he heard the shrieking laugh that nearly tore his head apart. Dropping his sword, he gripped his head trying to stop the noise. _Eragon! _Hearing Saphira, he shook his head, pushing her thoughts out and blocking her from his mind. Whatever was happening to him he couldn't get her involved in. His head seared again.

"Make the noise stop." He growled. His bones seared with pain as if a fire had imploded inside him, traveling through his veins and ready to consume his entire being. His right eye burned wildly.

_He was standing in the same place as before. Standing on the surface of blue water and facing a matching sky. What was going on? The sound of dripping water caught his attention. Eragon frowned when he took in the white tomb before him. The chains had become so rusted that it looked like as useless as a string of twine. And cracks outlined the white stone in more places than one and from those crack dripped red liquid: blood._

_Sitting atop of the tomb with ease was his shadow. He was smiling at Eragon showing his strong pointed teeth. "You should have worn your armor Eragon or that man wouldn't have been able to pierce you."_

"_You've done enough," Eragon said with a scowl. "Let me back into my body."_

_His shadow sat there for a moment, a rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He glanced at him with a thoughtful expression as if he was seriously considering his demand. Then a peal of laughter rose from him. "After being stuck in your body for all of these years, I don't think I will. It's my turn to have fun."_

_His smile widened. "It was your own carelessness that you're succumbing to my madness, Eragon. If only you had worn your armor. Or better, if you hadn't left Uru'baen you would never be in this situation."_

_Eragon frowned, staring at his shadow. "It doesn't matter. Even if you did take over my body, my servants will be there to stop you."_

"_I don't think so." He grinned before slipping off of the tomb he sat on, straightening. He turned back to the chains. "Ever since you accepted my help to fight Jeremiah, you used my power. And as such it was able to render that seal in your right eye useless with every thirst for blood that you felt. Good thing it did for how else would these bothersome chains corrode so easily?"_

_He bent forward and easily snapped one off. The drips of blood into the water below grew stronger. Then with a yell of happiness the shadow gripped the remaining chains in both hands before tugging them apart, easily breaking them. The metal snapped, flying in different directions. Eragon made to run forward stopping as a heavy gust of wind slammed into him. He flexed his knees bringing up his arms to deflect block it. What was happening?_

_The white tomb had fallen into pieces as a dark mist rose up from its confines twisting into the air, the laughter of his shadow grew louder. "You've lost, Eragon!"_

"_Not yet!" He sprang forward, but as soon as he did he felt his feet sink an inch into the water beneath him. His eyes widened in alarm as the tranquil blue water had suddenly became a sea of blood, its crimson color making him dizzy. The sky had also changed with the water. Instead of azure it was a deep gray. "What the—?"_

"_Welcome to the depths of my mind, Eragon." His shadow grinned at him again. Struggling forward, he barely moved a few feet before something sprang up from underneath the surface of the blood. Black tentacles that wrapped themselves around his wrist, waist, and torso._

_It gave a tug pulling him deeper into the red liquid. And no matter how hard he struggled, it was to no avail. "You shouldn't put up too much of a fight or you might damage your soul."_

"_Let me go!" he shouted. It only seemed to invoke more laughter from his shadow. The tentacles gave another tug, pulling him waist deep. _Don't give up, Eragon. Don't give up._ He gave a tug. But as he did so his heart gave an agonizing thump in his chest._

"Eragon, what's wrong?" Murtagh, that was Murtagh's voice. "Let us help you! Eragon!" He saw him reaching forward, his face panicked and alarmed.

_He gave another tug, _I'm trying Murtagh. _But he was sinking slowly into the depths of the blood and the spirits maddening mind._

A bellow of anguish sounded through the air. Saphira was before him her sapphire eyes deep with pain.

_The hold the tentacles had on him tightened. _I'm sorry Saphira. _His heart gave another agonizing thump in his chest. This was the end…_

"Eragon, look at me!" though beautiful as it was, her voice was filled with pain and worry. "Control it Eragon! Do not surrender to it! Eragon!" He saw Arya standing before him, Tamerlein drawn but limp in her hands as if she'd forgotten it was there. "Eragon, stay with me!"

_His heart gave another agonizing beat._

"_Ah, it seems as if they've figured out what's happened here." His shadow smiled. "Since there's such a warm and welcoming crowd awaiting me, I'll take my leave."_

"_No, wait!" He was neck deep in the crimson sea now, struggling despite the fact that he was unable to pull himself out. "Stop!" There was one final tug, pulling him below the red sea. The surface above was blurred by the liquid and soon enough he found himself falling into a dark abyss as wide as he could see. There was no exit. There was no escape._

_He'd lost._

_It was an odd fact to thing but it was true for his mind and body had fallen prey to the spirit. Was this the end? Was this where he was to spend the rest of eternity? He'd often thought of dying fighting against Galbatorix or trying to free Alagaesia but this was a reality that was different from his own thoughts._

_The tentacles pulled him deeper until his eyes could not see any more light. It was like having them closed for surrounding him was just pitch darkness. He hated the dark especially when he was alone. But this was where he was to spend the rest of his life, consumed by the spirit's bloodlust. _Fulfill your promise to me Bard, Desdemona, Finny, and Rosalie. _He'd no doubt that they would be able to free him from his prison with death. His heart gave a thump in his chest. This was goodbye. He wasn't going to see family again, Saphira, or Arya._

I wish I told her how I felt…

_Closing his eyes, he let himself drift downwards to be entirely engulfed by the darkness._

**And this is my rather agonizing cliffhanger for you all because I want to save the real drama for the next chapter. I hoped you all enjoyed it and please do review!**


	52. Chapter 47

**I've worked forever on this chapter. I feel like I might have killed some of my brain cells in doing so. But I'm glad that it is finally done. And I'm really hoping that you'll all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Just to tell you, I was writing chapter 49 and I nearly cried. It was a heart breaking thing to go about. But I won't tell you all anymore than that. Happy reading!**

Are_ you injured Eridor? _Arya asked as he swerved to the right affording the blow to his underbelly from the rotting beast.

_Just scratches, _he gave a bellow as he dove forward grabbing the beast by the neck between his jaws. If she wasn't distracted fighting Jeremiah she would have shielded her nose from such a foul stench. It was disgusting how Galbatorix had decided to assemble an imitation of a dragon to fight them. And from rotting flesh. She, who could not bring herself to consume the flesh of an animal, had to fight against a monster made from that flesh. A chunk of rotting meat fell to the ground as Thorn's talons dug into the beast.

_What an abomination, _below them Thorn had attached himself to the underside of the beast tearing at it with his talons. _How are you faring Murtagh? _Their thoughts were connected to keep them in line with each other's moves.

_Well, _was his reply and through his mind she could feel the consciousness of Blodhgarm and the other elves sent to guard him. _We've almost got him. Only a little more and he'll have to surrender to us._

_Careful, do not become too overconfident. It will allow for an opening. _She blocked a swipe to her neck with ease and with a quick flick of her wrist, rotated Tamerlein about and stabbed him in the gut. Letting out a yell, Jeremiah quickly pulled himself off of her blade something in his armor catching onto the tip of her sword before flying upwards into the air. Sparkling in the rays of light cast by the sun, a hand sized mirror in the shape of a six point star caught her eye. Arya reached up to catch it as Jeremiah shouted a command to his beast which was missing parts of its body.

The beast lashed at them with its spiked tail before turning to fly in the directions of Uru'baen. _He's escaping! _Murtagh cried, _Thorn hurry after them!_

The ruby dragon made to fly forward before another mind touched theirs. Recognizing Saphira's thoughts, Arya lowered her barriers, immediately feeling the dragon's distress through their connection. _What is it, Saphira?_

_It's Eragon! _Almost immediately Eridor dived forward towards the ground where the sapphire dragon was. The level of Saphira's turmoil and anguish was so deep that it nearly incapacitated Arya for a moment. She withdrew slightly to herself. _He's losing control of himself. You must hurry Arya or he'll be lost!_

Once Eridor neared the ground, he flared out his wings on either side to slow their descent. When he slowed twenty feet from the ground, Arya loosened the straps of the saddle and jumped landing lightly on the ground. Her eyes sought Eragon. It wasn't hard to do so seeing that he was standing a hundred yards away from the fighting between the Varden and Galbatorix's army.

His hands were clenched over his ears as he stood there hunched over. She ran to him but Murtagh was the first to reach him. "Eragon, what's wrong?" he asked reaching out for his brother. But Eragon retreated a step, his eyes wide in a crazed madness, his pupils dilated in pain. "Let us help you!" When he didn't reply, Murtagh's panic seemed to increase. "Eragon!"

Behind her she heard Saphira's bellow of anguish at the madness her rider was sinking into. Pushing past Murtagh, Arya went to stand before him, trying to keep her own pain and worry to a controllable level. "Eragon, look at me!" He didn't seem to hear her but instead stood there shaking his head murmuring under his breath.

"Make the noise stop! Please make it stop…" Noise? What noise? The fighting?

As she stared at him, the violet seal in his right eye began to glow brighter and brighter. "Control it, Eragon!" she urged him, trying to will him to keep the spirit at bay. His soul was strong enough she was sure it was. "Do not surrender to it!"

He didn't respond but continued to murmur. Arya felt her heart rapidly beat as she regarded him, she wasn't going to lose him. Not to the spirit within his body. There had to be another way. When she saw him slipping in and out of consciousness, her alarm heightened, "Eragon!" she cried reaching for him. "Eragon, stay with me!"

He didn't hear her but after a moment abruptly dropped his hands, his face losing any expression and he stared at her blankly. She heard Blodhgarm and the others stop behind them. Their swords were drawn and their bows strung, bewildered at the sudden turn in events. Eragon straightened and the seal in his right eye glowed ominously.

Suddenly the flow of magic from the seal was projected outward until it hovered in the air before them, bright and violet. Arya tightened her grip on Tamerlein. What was happening? The seal, a violet star, began to spin. Slowly at first but as time passed, it began to gain speed. A gust of wind caught them, violent and threatening, throwing them off of their feet and onto the ground. She almost lost her grip on the mirror in her right hand. Holding tightly onto it, she slid it into her belt strap.

_Eragon! _Saphira's cry echoed through her mind as the dragon buried her talons into the ground to keep from being thrown into the air by the strong gusts of winds. Her hair whipping about her face she glanced up from where she laid on the ground. Eragon was still standing unaffected by the great winds that seemed to shriek about him as he stood there, his seal spinning rapidly in the air before him. As it spun her eyes widened in surprise as a part of the seal shattered into violet lights.

_What's happening to him, Arya? _Murtagh's thoughts battered against hers demanding an answer. She frowned her eyes finding him lying on the ground with his arms pulled up over his head to protect it from the wind. _Is this some sort of dark magic?_

_In a way, _her lips thinned as she saw another piece of his seal shatter. The turbulent winds increased. _Eragon is sinking into madness…_

_Madness? I don't understand._

_I know and it's a complicated explanation, _she knew that Murtagh sought answers but now was not the time to laze around and converse. They had to take action before it was too late. _I shall explain it to you at a later time, Murtagh._

His thoughts faltered for a moment before he agreed, _I shall hold you to it then._

_His seal is fading, I can feel its powers in the air as it shatters, _Eridor said as he laid low on the ground his wings tucked against his body to keep it from unfurling. If it did, the torrents of air were strong enough to toss him about in the sky. A hundred yards away, the conflict between the Varden and Galbatorix's soldiers continued. It would be a miracle if they didn't catch what was happening with Eragon. It would be detrimental to the Varden's campaign.

The wind became stronger, howling into the sky as if bursting from a confined space. Lashes upon lashes swept over them, blowing dirt into the air, and keeping them from Eragon. There was nothing she could do to help him for every time she made to rise to her feet, the strength of the wind was too great for her to overcome. The feeling of helplessness washed over her and she felt angered at the situation and at herself. For rarely in her life was she ever helpless. The remainder of the seal spun through the air, until it too shattered into oblivion.

A shriek erupted so loud and monstrous that it made her wince; her ears were too sensitive against such a loud noise. The shriek was inhuman, the voice was raw and it screeched with a desire for the freedom to kill. It made her shiver slightly as a chill ran through her body at its sound. Then Saphira's own roar was added to the mix, a lament.

_He's gone, I don't feel him anymore! _She roared within their minds. Her grief was so great that Arya felt like it could move a mountain. _Eragon! _A keening went up into the air as the storm of winds died down fading away.

_Eridor, comfort Saphira, _Arya hadn't needed to tell her dragon to do so for he was already trying to comfort his mate and lower her distress with reassuring words. _Make sure she doesn't interfere she might get seriously injured. _Moving to her feet, Arya turned towards where Eragon stood, his face lowered to the ground. She felt her heart give a hard beat, for some reason it didn't feel like she was staring at Eragon.

Murtagh was the first to speak, "Eragon, brother?"

It was quiet at first that Arya couldn't hear it but she saw his shoulders shake. Was he laughing? The answer to her question presented itself when his laughter floated over to them, reaching her ears causing alarm to surface within her. It was not Eragon's laugh; though she rarely heard it she could always place it. This was a laugh that belonged to a demon.

Lifting his head, Arya froze when she caught sight of mismatched eyes. Piercing sapphire and deep violet peered out at them instead of soft brown. A lazy smile was stretched on his face showing strong, sharp teeth. "Brother?" His voice was demonic and held a sound of madness as he stared at them. "I've forgotten the humor that you humans possess." His smile widened. "What a warm welcoming party that you've set out for me, I must say it's a wonder to be free of his mind."

"What did you do to my brother?" Murtagh asked raising Zar'roc slightly.

"Me? I didn't do a thing to him," his smile became twisted as a laugh escaped him, shaking his body in an uncontrollable fit. A few seconds passed before he quieted, staring at them. "Eragon was weak."

"He wasn't," Arya denied. Blue and violet eyes latched onto her and she fought the strong urge to look away. The spirit lifted one of Eragon's hands to comb through his hair as if preparing himself to meet a superior.

"You're more beautiful when I see you with my own eyes, Arya Drottningu. The pleasure is mine, do call me Asura," he bowed slightly, his voice not hiding the mockery that he spoke with. Her eyes narrowed but she forced her hand to remain still, if they moved against Eragon than they could accidentally kill him. With his body held hostage by the spirit, they were helpless.

"What did you do to him?" Arya repeated Murtagh's question, her voice deadly quiet.

"Like I said earlier, I did nothing to him. He was weak," Asura said. "Not physically but mentally. He used my power when he knew that his soul could not bear the presence of my own spirit. The punishment for using my magic was that the seal holding my soul was broken and my madness and bloodlust began to slip into his consciousness. It was a little at first but with all of the bloodlust and pain that had surrounded him, it sped up the process. Eragon was too weak to resist it, his soul was too weak. He lacked the mindset to fend me off. He was a weak person."

"No! Eragon's stronger than that," Murtagh protested viciously.

"Oh? His own heart harbored darkness," Asura said with a twirl of his hands in such an odd gesture as if he were to dance. "His fears grew ready to consume his mind. Fear had propelled him to such great lengths. And his own tortures, the killing, the dying, all brought forth a pillar of darkness within his heart. Within time, it grew. Seeing new sights, meeting new people had increased his darkness and his fears. It was enough to eat him alive from the inside."

Arya frowned; she could never imagine Eragon fearful of anything. She never saw that as a possible feeling for him. He was too strong, too confident with his abilities to be afraid. But when she thought back about his actions, she could see it in his eyes the hesitation that lurked beneath the surface. "It was amusing to say in the least when I think of his fears. His fear of seeing his father, his fear of his acceptance. He was afraid of disappointment, always trying to be the best, always trying to meet the expectations of others. But what he feared most was the love of another."

It was like everything about her had slowed to a halt and her ears were unable to hear correctly. Her heart which was already beating rapidly in her chest wanted to give out at Asura's admission. "Does that shock you into silence, Arya?" He grinned. "Eragon was afraid of becoming close to one and losing them. He was afraid of the chances love would give him, afraid of the new doors that would be opened to him. He worried constantly you see, he didn't want to burden the ones that he cared for. So he lied and deceived them, he went about their backs to keep them in utter darkness. He was not a great person as you think he is, but a coward."

Her shock abating, she felt anger overwhelm her. It tore through her veins with such speed that she wanted to lash out. "You're wrong," Arya argued, her eyes narrowed, Tamerlein shook slightly in her grip. Taking a deep breath, she still her hands and continued her voice still strong as she faced Asura. The spirit that controlled Eragon's body gazed at her in amusement as if she had said something particularly funny. "Eragon was afraid but he wasn't a coward. He was learning to live for himself and no other, to live without reason. For his entire life he lived for reasons, for ideals. He was not—is not a coward."

Asura sighed as he balanced on the balls of his feet, "My, such delusion especially coming from one as wise as you, Arya."

"She's not wrong," Murtagh said. "My brother is not a coward. He's the bravest person I know."

"Tut, tut, tut," he clicked his tongue with distaste. "It seems as if you're all plagued with blindness. Then let me open your eyes so you all can face reality." Raising Eragon's blade high above his head he began to murmur words that were alien to Arya. They weren't of the ancient language but of the language of spirits.

"Ready yourselves," Arya murmured as she took a defensive stance, trying to gauge an opening. As soon as her mind tried to locate a point in which to kill Asura, she gritted her teeth. She couldn't, it was Eragon's body. A violet tongue of light came forth appearing from nothingness, wrapping itself about Eragon's blade turning it a crude amethyst. The best she could do was to knock him unconscious.

Asura smiled at them then the next second he was gone. She blinked turning to see Murtagh thrown violently off his feet with a kick to the gut. Her eyes widened as she brought up Tamerlein to deflect a blow to her midsection. He was fast! Retreating, her eyes scanned back and forth for him. He was moving with the speed that was bestowed upon Eragon and he fought with the same strength. But it was also combined with whatever powers that he as a spirit possessed. She felt his presence behind her and hurriedly moved to the side to avoid the confines of his arms.

Blodhgarm and the other elves were torn between protecting Murtagh who was on all fours, covered in dirt from his fall, coughing and spitting blood and assisting her. Catching his eye, she shook her head. She would be the one to rid Eragon of Asura. "This is a lot more fun than I thought it would be!" he gave a laugh as he swung down on her, his blade slashing through midair as she fell to the side to dodge his blade.

Unable to stop his momentum, the blade slammed into the ground. His strength was grand for as the blade made contact with the ground, cracks erupted traveling twenty feet in every direction as if the ground was being uprooted. As he went to draw himself up, Arya brought Tamerlein forth mindless of the fact that it was Eragon's body she was attacking for alarm and instinct drove her into action. Before she could stop herself, her blade was protruding from Eragon's right shoulder, the tip breaking through the other side.

Instantly worry overwhelmed her. Eragon! A hand came out to wrap around her throat. Unable to pull Tamerlein from Eragon from fear of causing him an immense blood loss, she gasped as she was lifted off of her feet and staring directly into Asura's mismatched eyes. His lips were pulled down in a frown as he regarded her. His free hand reached up to grip the emerald blade of Tamerlein before pulling it out and tossing it to the ground. "How distasteful…"

Immediately, blood began to pour forward from the wound. Staining the tunic that Eragon had worn earlier that day. Never before had she felt such a distress as she stared at Asura—at Eragon. There was a roar to the side and she saw the dragons start forward, the sapphire dragon finally calm enough to grasp the situation. Lifting his hand to the dragons, Asura shouted in his alien language. Whatever he did was effective for the three of them dropped to the ground.

_Eridor! _He didn't respond. "I would worry more about yourself than your dragons." Asura warned, his blue and purple eyes glittering. When the elves and Murtagh made to intervene, he lifted his hand again and with another shout the ground began to shift underneath their feet. Taking in a strained breath, she watched as the dirt began to reach up like claws before clamping around her companions' wrists and ankles pulling them down against the ground to hold them there.

Despite their attempts to free themselves with the use of spells, it was ineffective against the dirt. "You can't use magic against this land, surely you understand being devoted to nature as you are," Asura said with a laugh again. "Alagaesia is far older than the ancient language and as such not even one as powerful as Galbatorix can hope to compete with its might."

His grip on her throat tightened but not enough to become threatening but it made breathing difficult. Reaching up with her right hand, she gripped his wrist. Asura leaned close to her until she could feel his breath on her skin. His scent, Arya noticed had changed. It wasn't the scent that belonged to Eragon, the smell of fresh air and a musky odor, but a scent of blood and something she couldn't identify.

"Such a beautiful woman, you are," She felt herself stiffen when the tip of his nose glided over her skin. Revulsion filled her thoughts. Her fingers tightened on his wrist ready to break the bone. As she moved to do so, the thought of putting Eragon in pain made her cautious. She hated to see him in pain, mentally or physically. He lifted his head to stare at her again. "It's such a shame that Eragon won't be able to be with you anymore."

Her eyes hardened as she stared at Asura in the eye, unwavering. Finding her determination, she said in a scathing and raspy voice, "Don't let him win, Eragon." He was still there, she was sure of it. Far off, the battle began to die down between the Varden and the Empire's soldiers. Then it increased in turmoil once more. "You're stronger than that. I know you are."

She saw a flash of recognition in his eyes before it was gone. It had worked, if only slightly. Asura raised her higher, bearing his sharp teeth in a demented smile. "It's hopeless to call out to him. His soul has been consumed by mine. He can't hear you." His smile widened. "I guess you'll just have your reunion in the afterlife!"

Before he could make do on his words an arrow engulfed in golden flames whizzed through the air towards them before piercing Asura in the forearm in which he held her. He didn't drop her like she expected but turned to face the new threat. She turned with him, as the golden fire faded away. Standing thirty yards away was Eragon's servants. They were smeared in dirt and blood but otherwise seemed unhurt. To her surprise, a determined but pain expression was set on their face as they gazed at their lord's body. Their weapons were drawn and ready. From what she could tell it was Bard who had loosed the arrow, in his hands he carried a low bow which was devoid of an arrow. What were they planning?

Asura gazed at them for a moment before a laugh tore through him. He dropped her to the ground where she fell clutching at her throat to ease the pain of his grip. Her guard down, she was too slow to evade the grips of the brick like dirt that formed chains about her waist, ankles, and wrists. Pulling against it, she felt dismay overwhelm her. She was trapped. Standing above her with his attention focused on the four servants, Asura continued to laugh. Hearing the sound of his laugh made her want to strike him. "I see you've actually decided to challenge me. What foolishness is this?" He laughed again.

"It's our promise to him," Bard said, and for the first time she heard the steel in his voice that portrayed a leader.

"Let go of this foolishness Bard, Desdemona, Rosalie, Finny. If you do, you can serve me instead. It would be a pity to waste away with such useful tools," Asura said as he pulled the arrow from Eragon's body. He held out his hand to them. "Join me."

Rosalie was the first to answer, "Never, our loyalty remains with lord Eragon and none else."

Asura shook his head as he raised his hand as if to throw something, but instead he began whispering and she watched as the same violet magic began to weave about him as if to protect him. _Wards. _After he was done he turned to them, "It's a shame that I'll have to kill you then. Such talented servants and yet here you are trying to fulfill your lord's last wish. Tell me how will you do so?"

Wish? She stared at them waiting for an answer to her question. What was Eragon's last wish? Asura's question seemed to cause them to hesitate which made him laugh again, "Your hesitation means everything. You can't kill him, can you?" Her eyes shot back to Asura and she could feel Murtagh and the others do the same. _Was his wish to have them kill him?_ It made sense, all of the looks she caught him giving his family, Saphira, and her. All of the time he set aside to spend with them. He knew that it would come to this. Anger and pain welled up within her. He had gone behind her back to request such a foolish wish. _Eragon…did you believe in your future at all? Did you believe in becoming better?_

No, she wouldn't shed tears. Not now. Not when there was a battle to be fought. "Your lord you love so much, you can bear the thought of stick a sword through his heart or an arrow to his throat. Weak! You're all weak!"

"Shut up!" Bard yelled as he strung another arrow.

"We're going to fulfill the wish to lord Eragon for we promised him!" and with that Finny bounded forward. Unable to help, Arya watched the four of them—no three of them for Bard remained behind them—to spring into action.

With his supernatural strength, Finny seemed to have caught Asura off guard for he rammed him hard in the gut. He went skidding backwards fifteen yards, Rosalie and Desdemona chasing him moving in towards his openings. She had seen this strategy before, when they trained with Eragon and she had thought nothing more of it. It never occurred to her that he was training them up to eventually kill him. Another pang of hurt ripped at her heart as she gazed at them fighting the person that they'd followed so diligently. It was heart wrenching to watch but she could never imagine herself striking down Eragon. It was just too much…

She closed her eyes, as a memory surfaced before her.

_He was fast and strong, Arya thought as she watched Eragon easily weave between his servants as they fought to make it pass his guard. He turned to ward of the imminent attack that Rosalie posed to his head. It was a mistake for she merely feinted for him to turn his back as Finny rushed up to knock him roughly into the ground. The sound of it didn't sound light to her. Dirt billowed upwards as his body fell and a groan escaped him._

_Seeing enough, she moved forwards from where she stood to the side watching. Earlier that morning she and Nasuada were conversing with King Orrin in a council and when she was done she'd decided to find Eragon to spend time with him. When she reached him, she squatted, hovering over him, "Have you've been beaten enough to rest, Eragon?"_

_He gazed up at her dazed. Finny must have really hit him. Reaching out with a hand, she began to stroke the side of his face, drawing him from his dazed state. "My body feels like a dragon has stomped on me," he said after moment with a slight smile._

_She snorted, wiping away a spot of dirt on his face, "Well, seeing as Finny is unnaturally strong even on elven terms, I would somewhat agree with that statement." She poked him lightly in the chest. "Will you get up now?"_

"_Just give me a moment, I'm still a little winded," he turned his neck to the side lightly, groaning when his muscles cramped. Arya stared at him, amused. Then after a moment of watching his uncomfortable expression did she take pity on him. With her right hand she began to rub his neck, relaxing his muscle. His eyes closed in relief._

"_Better?" Arya asked._

_He nodded his eyes opening to stare at her again. "Much better, you have to teach me how to do that next time," Eragon said seriously as he moved into a sitting position his hand messaging his chest lightly._

"_If you wish to learn," her expression turned serious. "Is this necessary Eragon? The only goal you seem intent on is to batter your body."_

_He pondered her question for a moment; there was a flash of emotion in his eyes before he nodded, "I just wish to get better." He was already the best there was. To hear it from him made her raise a brow in curiosity. He saw her expression and smiled. "It is a trait that elves value, don't they? To hone their skills to the highest possible level?"_

"_It is," she agreed, brushing his brown curls from his eyes. She bent forward to kiss him slightly seeing the look in his eyes. When she pulled away, Eragon's smile had widened but it wasn't the true smile she longed to see from him._

A loud yell brought her back to reality; Finny was thrown off of his feet and went skidding in the dirt to a stop before her, his face distorted in pain. She wanted to help, but the chains about her refused to let her up. If only she could reach Tamerlein. She glanced back at Rosalie and Desdemona. The two were moving slower than before, haltering every once and while from their injuries. Desdemona's left leg was covered in blood while Rosalie shoulder was also drenched in her blood. Though they were covered in the red liquid, she couldn't find a wound on them. It must be Bard's doing. Crawling to his feet, Finny ran to join the fray.

But it was useless for the wards that Asura had placed about himself had deflected every blow that Rosalie and Desdemona sought to inflict upon him with their swords. Finny was the only one who seemed to be able to actually harm him. But he never received the chance due to in part, the amethyst blade that he wielded.

They were tiring; Arya could see it for they had assisted King Orrin in dispatching the soldiers Galbatorix had sent and from what she could see the battle was diminishing in favor of the Varden. In time, the men would see what was happening to Eragon and would grow demoralized. They had to see to it that Asura was stopped before they could realize anything else. But how were they to stop Asura? Nothing seemed to work and he was too strong and swift for the servants to match.

Her eyes followed Eragon's form as Asura danced about the three of his attackers. He had said that Eragon's soul was consumed by his. But she wouldn't believe it. Eragon was stronger than that. He was more confident and never surrendering. She had to reach out for him. If her voice could reach him, even for just a moment it would be enough.

"Eragon!" Arya called within the ancient language willing herself to be heard. "You have to fight it Eragon! You've told me that one day you would find it within yourself to live. But to do so you can't let Asura defeat you. You have to wake up!"

"He can't hear you!" Asura said as he threw off Desdemona.

She ignored him, continuing to speak to Eragon as if he stood before her. "We still have to march to Uru'baen. We still have to defeat Galbatorix. Your wish is to have revenge against him, is it not? Eragon you must focus and reclaim what was yours!"

She saw it then, she saw the hesitation in Asura's movements, the stiffness of his body. It lasted for a few moments but it was enough to tell her that Eragon heard; that her voice had reached him wherever he was. Regaining control of his body, Asura growled seemingly cautious of her now. "Quiet elf!"

His warning fell deaf on her ears, "Return to us, Eragon. Your mother is waiting for you. Brom, Murtagh, Saphira, and all who care about you are waiting for you." Her voice grew stronger as she spoke, "I am waiting for you."

Throwing Rosalie backwards, she could see the inner struggle between the two. Asura was no longer jesting but had grown serious as Eragon fought to regain control of his body. His eyes, she saw was now brown and violet. A warmth against her side drew her attention away, the mirror she had slipped into her belt was glowing lightly.

Bard's shout caught her attention, "My lord!"

"No," when he spoke she heard Eragon's voice as well as Asura's voice. Each fighting to be heard over the other, but it was Eragon who won the battle. If only momentarily."The four of you—have to—do it now!" His body shook with effort. "Don't falter!"

Bard nodded, turning his head to Rosalie. "Now Rosalie, this is our only chance!"

The redheaded woman stood, retrieving Zar'roc from where it laid on the ground, holding it out towards Eragon. Her face was set and determined. She raised her hand and threw Zar'roc at Eragon as he stood slightly hunched. She heard shouts of dismay, her own and Murtagh's mixed within the mix. The red blade sliced through the air and tore through the wards the Asura had set about himself. A loud squelch met her ears as Zar'roc dug itself into Eragon's chest. Everything was silent. There was no sound, no motion. It was as if the Earth had stopped spinning and the world had fallen to stillness.

Clutching at the pommel of Zar'roc, an unearthly roar tore from Eragon's mouth, the earth shaking below them with such a tremendous power it was unnatural. Gusts of winds whirled about them. After a moment, everything fell silent again.

Her emerald eyes stayed glued on Eragon watching as he coughed, blood spewing from his mouth coating the ground red. The wound that Zar'roc inflicted on him was bleeding profusely. He swayed for a moment before falling backwards onto the ground where he remained motionless.

Unable to stop the fear, agony, and grief that welled up within her, Arya cried, "Eragon!"

Silence met her cry.


	53. Chapter 48

**And so here is the other chapter following such a dramatic ending to the last chapter. Anyways, I'm still working on the next chapter and hopefully it won't be too long or I might have to go for one more chapter before I can finish this conflict. I hope you all enjoy this, happy reading.**

_Darkness in a sea of red…_

_Was he floating? Was he falling? Or did the world stop all together?_

_He was in a void that disregarded time, that disregarded reality. His body was numb and refused to move and his eyes refused to open. Was he dead? But if this was death than why was he still here? All these questions and yet no answers to them. There were tales in which death was described as the next greatest journey as a path of amazement and peace. Were they wrong? Or had heaven's gate shut on him and had plunged him into the underworld? Was this the price he had to pay for having a weak heart?_

_Eragon did not know. The answers seemed useless now with him trapped where he was. As he floated there or falling through space, he felt a sense of loneliness wash over him. There was no one in this space devoid of time. He was all alone. Saphira was gone. His family was gone. Arya was gone. Were they in pain, he wondered. Did they resent him for leaving in such a way? In lying to them and deceiving them?_

_What was going to happen to him now? He had lost control of his body, had been consumed by the spirit within him. If logic served correctly, half of a soul can not transcend the boundaries that separated the living and the dead. No, it would disappear into nothingness. All of his life to be wasted and his soul unable to ascend to the heavens where the dead rested._

Am I going to disappear?

_The thought was so painful to bear it was almost like a stab to the heart. His entire life he refused to shed tears, even a small amount but now when faced with such a plight it made him want to release his frustration and sorrow by use of tears. But he could not for he was dying or will become nonexistent._

Will I be forgotten?

_That thought alone was more painful to bear. If he died and his family lived they would move on and soon enough his name will be but a wilting memory to them. Arya would move on. She had a long life ahead of her; if Galbatorix was overthrown she would find another to walk beside. Just the thought of it filled him with an excruciating pain._

Was this the end?

_As he floated in the sea of darkness, he didn't expect to hear a reply but one came to him, deep and wise. _No, this is not the end for you Eragon Shadeslayer, this is merely the beginning. _The voice rumbled in his mind, like a rumble of thunder vast and powerful and oddly comforting._

Who are you? _Was he friend or foe? Or something else entirely different?_

Names are powerful and I shall not reveal my name to you but know this I am here to help you Eragon.

Help me? _A spark of hope erupted in his chest. Was there a way to help him? To save him?_

Yes.

How?

_The voice didn't respond for a moment but rather let his emotions pour through him. Pride, honor, and strength seemed to flow through him like a waterfall. Then the voice spoke again, _you must believe in yourself.

_What an odd request. _Believe?

In yourself and in others, _the voice spoke quietly and calmly, despite the great power its depth held. _And do not let your fears overwhelm you for spirits such as Asura uses that fear to control your body. You are not weak.

But I lost to him…My soul was consumed by him. _Wasn't that the reason why he was unable to control his body anymore? Because his mind and soul were weak, it seemed like the most logical reason._

You did not lose, not entirely. Before your soul is completely consumed you must break through this trance that he has set over you. You must open your eyes and regain control of your body, _the voice said again. That was easier said than done._

Open my eyes? I don't know how to.

Face your fears, Eragon. If you can face your fears, then Asura will not be able to control you as he does now. Spirits like Asura only thrive off of another's fear and darkness.

My fears?

Yes, I'll show you the way but you must see to it that you can make it through before your soul is consumed entirely. For the sake of your loved ones, you must do this, _the voice murmured before fading away into the dark abyss that he was confined to._

_Eragon frowned, he was unsure of what to do. What was that voice trying to tell him? Who did that voice belong to? Before he could think of anything else, he felt a strange sensation overwhelm him and to his surprise, he was able to open his eyes. Where was he?_

I was able to bring your mind out of that deep abyss but only for a moment, _the voice spoke, _are you ready, Eragon?

_Unsure of what to say, he stood in the darkness not seeing anything. After a moment of consideration, he nodded. _I am ready.

Then let us begin, Eragon Shadeslayer.

_The darkness around him began to shift and change becoming a warm and beautiful field of flowers. Had he been here before? It looked oddly familiar. Walking though the flowerbeds with caution, he made sure not to step on the flowers. What was he doing here? As he walked he saw a figure bent over the white flowers, singing lightly._

_Approaching the figure with caution, he froze when he saw the woman had beautiful chestnut hair. It looked so familiar, rapidly approaching the person, he stopped behind her. Could she be? "Excuse me?" Eragon asked tentatively._

_The woman glanced up and he was shell shocked to see that it was his mother, but much younger. It was as if she'd gone back in time fourteen years or so. "Yes? Do I know you?" she asked kindly buy cautiously._

_He frowned, of course she knew him. He was her son after all. "It's me, mother. Eragon, your son."_

_Her expression became one of confusion as she stared up at him, her hands stilled over the flower that she was caressing at the moment. "Eragon?" her brown eyes gleamed with concentration. "I do not have a son by the name of Eragon. My only son is Murtagh."_

_Shock overwhelmed him for a moment as he stared at her and eventually, he felt a deep ache in his heart form. How could that be? His mother always recognized him, no matter how different he looked or sounded. But how could she say that now? "Don't you remember me? I'm yours and Brom's son, Eragon Shadeslayer."_

_She shook her head, standing to look at him, her expression returning to one of kindness. "I'm afraid that I'm sorry to say this to you Eragon, but I'm not your mother. You must've mistaken me with another. My only son with Brom is Murtagh."_

"_No!" Eragon argued, trying to keep his panic at bay, "Murtagh is Morzan's son!"_

"_Morzan's? Good lord, no," her lips curled into a frown. "You must be confusing me, really."_

_Eragon shook his head, he always recognized his mother. No matter what age she was at. He was sure of it. "I'm your son; I've lived with you for all of my life in Uru'baen under Galbatorix. Together we've lived there for a good amount of years before you left for the Varden and I followed you. Can't you remember?"_

"_I've never lived in Uru'baen. I've lived in Carvahall my entire life," his mother answered._

_He stared at her dismayed. How could that be? That was impossible. Feeling sadness grip him, he tried to keep his pain at bay. This couldn't be real. As he stood there rooted to the spot, his mother held a white lily out to him. "I'm sorry if I've wounded you but I speak the truth, Eragon Shadeslayer."_

_He accepted the flower, though reluctantly, "It's beautiful," he murmured miserably._

_She nodded, "They are my favorite."_

_He nodded, about to let the statement pass before he took in the sight of the flower again. It was a lily; his mother's favorite flower was not a lily. Glancing at her, he studied her for a long while. Looking past her smile and kind expression, his hand clutching the flower tightened. "You're wrong."_

"_Pardon me?"_

"_My mother, Selena, her favorite flower is not a lily but a white rose," Eragon said gaining strength as he began to realize the situation at hand. "And she would always recognize me as her son, Eragon Shadeslayer. You are not her."_

_She stared at him for a moment, and then to his shock she began to fade away into a black dust as well as the flower within his hand. Within moments, he found himself standing in the dark abyss again. Claiming his heart, he took in a deep breath. That was a heart wrenching experience. Shaking his head, he knew that the voice was waiting for him to prepare himself again._

I'm ready.

_Without responding his surrounding shifted again and this time he found himself standing in at the base of a mountain. There was no one else in sight. A roar sounded and he felt himself tense as he saw a large figure dive forward from the sky, diving towards where he stood. Jumping backwards, he was surprised to find that it was Saphira who was before him and strapped in the saddle was Murtagh._

"_Murtagh? What are you doing?" Eragon asked as he glanced at his brother._

_His older brother glanced at him for a moment, his face showing his curiosity. "Do I know you?"_

_Like the first time, he felt confusion overwhelm him; they were brothers, weren't they? "You and I are brothers."_

_Murtagh stared at him for a moment before laughing, "If you were my brother, I would know. But you aren't. The only sibling I have is my cousin, Roran. I'm afraid I do not know who you are, traveler."_

"_Traveler?" he felt insulted. He was not a traveler. "Where's Thorn?"_

"_Thorn?" Murtagh laughed again. "I do not know of who this Thorn is."_

"_Of course you do, Thorn is your dragon."_

_This sent more laughter into Murtagh as his older brother stared down at him, "No, my dragon is Saphira. Can't you see that?"_

_Words seem to leave him as he though hard on the fact that Saphira was his dragon and not Murtagh's. Half of his mind knew that this wasn't real but the other half couldn't seem to shake the cold sweat that seemed to settle over him. "That's not true, Saphira is my bonded dragon. Thorn is yours."_

_His brother didn't answer but stared down at him with a smile. "You are delusion, friend. Saphira has been by my side since she'd hatched for me near the clearing that I've found her in near Carvahall."_

"_No, she hatched for me when I found her egg in Galbatorix's castle in Uru'baen on my twelfth birthday," said Eragon slowly but surely. He did not lose his memory, he knew for a fact that he didn't. Saphira was his dragon and not Murtagh's._

_Saphira lifted her head to stare at him before slowly shaking it from side to side. As she did so, he smelt a rather odd scent coming from her. It was not her usual scent of fireweed and another pleasant odor he couldn't place. This scent was much different. Scrunching up his nose, his mind made the connection. She was Saphira and he wasn't Murtagh._

_As soon as the thoughts formed in his mind, he found himself standing in the dark void again. He blinked unable to place how he had gotten there at the moment. Where was he again? After a moment of thinking it came back to him, he was where the voice had brought him. That was odd…why couldn't he remember that when he was facing Saphira and Murtagh?_

Because I'd suppressed that memory.

Why?

If you knew what you were facing wasn't real than you would lose the will to face your ultimate fears, _the voice spoke. Eragon nodded following his logic._ There is only one more challenge that you have left to face.

_Steeling his will, he took in a deep breath not even sure if breathing mattered where he was. _Let us be done with it then.

_The sound of birds trilling met his ears as he found himself standing in a verdant clearing. Was this Du Weldenvarden? It certainly looked like it. Tentatively approaching the trees, he froze when he heard the sound of singing. Where was that?_

_Following the beautiful voice with his acute hearing, he made sure not to trip over the roots of the trees that rested on the forest ground. The more he walked, the closer the singing sounded before he emerged into another clearing in which he found standing in the middle dressed in her usual leather clothing, Arya._

_Eragon opened his mouth to call her name, but another voice spoke first. "Arya!" His eyes turned and emerging from the opposite end of the clearing was a male elf. He was young and slender, with a slim but powerful build. His hair was dark and his sapphire eyes bright. He was a fair elf, Eragon thought as he watched as the elf approached Arya, his feet seemingly barely touching the ground. Could that be?_

"_Faolin," Arya replied with a smile that he had rarely seen on her expression. It was beautiful for it hid nothing, all of her happiness could be seen on the surface. Faolin…that was impossible, he died! As he stood there waiting, his eyes widened in surprise as he watched the male elf approach Arya and then he did something that made his heart stop. He bent down and very lightly, kissed her._

_He'd been furious in his life before. There was no doubt about it. But the rage that gripped him as he watched the scene before him unfold was so powerful; it made him want to burn the entire forest down. Unable to watch anymore, he strode forward into the clearing his feet crunching the dry bark beneath his boots, alerting them to his presence._

_The two of them instantly turned, pulling hidden daggers from their sides, crouching with the intent to attack. He stopped a good ten feet before them. Faolin stared at him with hostile eyes but it was Arya he was focused on. Her emerald eyes were narrowed and her brows slanted, giving her a dangerous look. After a moment, she spoke, "Who are you?" Her voice rang with a warning; daring him to make a move that she would make his regret._

_He frowned, did she not remember him? It was impossible! Keeping his anger at bay, he took another step forward stopping when she raised her dagger slightly. He heeded her warning. "Eragon Shadeslayer," Eragon said watching to see if his name would make any difference. It didn't. Her posture did not relax like he'd expected it to but instead she continued to watch him with a hostile and distrusting expression._

_Trying not to let her reaction upset him, he glanced around for Eridor. Maybe he was nearby and could tell him what was wrong with Arya. A minute passed and he still couldn't spot the dragon. "Where is Eridor?" Eragon asked her._

_Her lips thinned as she considered him for a moment, "Who is Eridor?"_

_That wasn't right, Arya would never forget about Eridor. And he was sure she would never forget about him either. They were mates, a bonded pair. But why hadn't she seen that he was Eragon? "Are you feeling well, Arya?" Eragon asked as he took another tentative step towards her._

"_Do not come closer," this time it was Faolin who spoke, his eyes displaying an intense expression. Eragon's frown deepened as he stopped mid-step, staring at the elf. Who was he to tell him what to do?_

"_I do not know who you are but I warn you that if you do not leave, I will not falter in my attacks," Arya warned. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest. She still couldn't recognize him. Why? He didn't understand. What had he done? He reached out towards her, hesitating as he thought of her and Faolin. Was she happy? Unable to think of anything, he sighed tiredly rubbing his face. He didn't know how he'd gotten here but since he was standing before her, he wasn't going to back down._

_Moving forward, he saw Faolin move slightly from the corner of his eyes and instinctively jumped back nearly missing a stab to his side. Gathering his anger from before, he waited for another stab to follow. It did within seconds. Faster than Faolin, he reached out and gripped the elf's wrist as he twisted his body away from the dagger letting it pass through air. As he twisted, he brought his foot up and roughly kicked him in the gut, sending him flying backwards into a tree and knocking him unconscious._

_Good, with him out of the way, Eragon could speak freely to Arya now. When he turned back to her, he blinked when he couldn't find her. Where had she gone? His question was answered when he heard movement to his left. Turning, he brought up a hand to grab her arm when it went swinging down on him, the tip of the dagger gleaming in the light of the sun. Holding her there, he felt pain slowly build up in him. Why was she doing this? Did she really intend to kill him? "Why are you doing this Arya?"_

_Then to his surprise, she growled. Never had he heard such a sound from her. Unsettled, he grunted when she twisted and elbowed him roughly in the side of his head. Losing his grip on her, she shook herself free before coming at him again. Refusing to hurt her, he remained on the defense until an opening could present itself to him as she attacked him._

_Shuffling his feet backwards, he waited as she went to stab his waist, her left side unguarded. Immediately, he moved in and gripped both her hands. He twisted the knife from her right hand but she refused to admit defeat, trying to use her leg to unbalance him. Eragon didn't want to resort to throwing her to the ground but that was his only choice. As he did so, he hurriedly moved to grab her hands to still them in his iron grip and with his own legs, he pinned hers to the ground._

_She twisted underneath him but was unable to free herself. "Arya, calm yourself. Can't you remember who I am?"_

_Her emerald eyes burned as they gazed up at him, "I've never once set my eyes on you."_

_He stared down at her, how was that possible? "You're lying."_

"_I've not." Her words came out in the ancient language, harsh and biting. He stared down at her for a moment. She'd spoke the truth. Momentarily stunned, he stared at her, his eyes catching sight of something. Her eyes weren't the dark emerald that he'd come to love but instead a light emerald. As he stared at her, he felt the answer come to him. She wasn't his Arya._

_Again, he found himself standing in the dark void, his heart pounding from the last encounter. That was by far the most heart wrenching. _Am I done?

You are.

Then what do I do now?

_The voice did not answer him but instead a different one sounded. _"Don't let him win, Eragon." _It was Arya's voice. It sounded strained and far away. _"You're stronger than that. I know you are."

_His heart pounded in his chest as he circled the spot where he stood. Where was she? Was she here? _It is time for you to return to your mind and body, Eragon. _No, wait! Arya was calling for him. But before he could do anything else, he felt a tug on his limbs and then the familiar sensation of falling washed over him again._

_What was going on?_

_Her voice didn't reach him until he felt as if a century had passed since he'd last heard her. _"Eragon!" _she sounded muffled to him, but he heard her. _. "You have to fight it Eragon! You've told me that one day you would find it within yourself to live. But to do so you can't let Asura defeat you. You have to wake up!"

_Wake up? He gritted his teeth, trying to will his eyes to open. It was too difficult. _. "We still have to march to Uru'baen. We still have to defeat Galbatorix. Your wish is to have revenge against him, is it not? Eragon you must focus and reclaim what was yours!"

_That was right; he still had to take his revenge on Galbatorix. He wasn't afraid, not anymore but what would that matter if he died right then and there? Feeling a strong feeling of determination wash up within him, he felt his fingers twitch light and his legs stiffen. Fight. He had to fight Asura. He had to fight his own darkness._

_He was a fool to suspect such foolish thoughts. His mother would never abandon him for Murtagh. Saphira would always stay by his side and Murtagh, no matter how foolish he was, was there to help him. And Arya…he loved her. With every fiber in his being. He loved her and he knew that she was content and happy with being with him._

_She spoke again and this time, her voice was strong and clear, ringing forth from the darkness._ "Return to us, Eragon. Your mother is waiting for you. Brom, Murtagh, Saphira, and all who care about you are waiting for you."_ Wait for me…_

"I am waiting for you."

_Breaking from the darkness that seemed to encase, him he saw the dim light waiting for him and reached for it._

Gasping, he groaned at the immense pain that his mind felt. Where was he? Letting his eyes travel about him, he found himself standing once again on the dirt covered ground where they were fighting. What was going on?

Lying about fifty yards away, he saw Arya and the others trapped against the ground, help in what seemed to be the confining grips of claws fashioned from dirt.

Bard's shout caught his attention, "My lord!"

Turning his eyes to his servant, he tried to keep the pain at bay as Asura tried to batter him into submission to gain control of his body once more. He wasn't going to let him. With all of his might, he tried to subdue the spirit if only for a moment to keep him at bay.

"No," when he spoke his voice was his as well as Asura's voice. Each fighting to be heard over the other, but it was Eragon who won the battle. If only momentarily. "The four of you—have to—do it now!" His body shook with effort. Any moment and he was going to lose to Asura once more. "Don't falter!"

Bard nodded, turning his head to Rosalie. "Now Rosalie, this is our only chance!"

The redheaded woman stood, retrieving Zar'roc from where it laid on the ground, holding it out towards Eragon. Her face was set and determined. She raised her hand and threw Zar'roc at Eragon as he stood slightly hunched. He heard shouts of dismay, Arya's and Murtagh's were the ones that tore at his heart. But he must, there was no other way. The red blade sliced through the air and tore through the wards the Asura had set about himself. A loud squelch met his ears as he felt the cool blade of Zar'roc tear through his chest before reappearing through the middle of his back.

Almost immediately, the pain seemed to double in his head, nearly incapacitating him. Clutching at the pommel of Zar'roc with shaky fingers, an unearthly roar tore from Eragon's mouth, the earth shaking below them with such a tremendous power it was unnatural. Gusts of winds whirled about them. After a moment, everything fell silent again.

His vision flashing red and black before him, he felt his chest burn and his throat constrict before he coughed spewing blood from his lips. _Am I dying? _The wound that Zar'roc inflicted on him was bleeding profusely. Swaying for a moment, he was unable to stop his own fall as he fell to the ground, a sudden coldness washing over his limbs, his vision blurring.

Vaguely he heard Arya's cry which was filled with such agony, fear, and grief, he wanted to reach out to soothe her. But he didn't have the energy to barely keep his eyes open for some reason. The echoes of her cry sounded dimly in his mind as he stared up at the open blue sky.

"Eragon!"

**Did you all like it? I wanted to give you guys the perspective of the enternal mindset of Eragon at the moment but this isn't the actual mental conflict between him and Asura. That would be the next chapter I think. Or maybe the one after that. Besides that do review (oh, and what's the deal with coolio? lol) and I'll have the next chapter posted as soon as I think it's worthy enough for you all to read.**


	54. Chapter 49

p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"strongspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Anyways the next chapter is up! I saw your reviews and decided that its time to update the next chapter. I hope that you enjoyed the last chapter but from what I read you all seem to be dying from suspense and my cliffhanger twice was somewhat cruel. I hope that this chapter shall make up for it! Please read and don't forget to review./span/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p3"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"No one spoke. No one moved./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p4"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Vaguely, she felt the hold on her disappear as the dirt fell to the ground, the magic binding it together gone as Asura had fallen. Without a second thought, she stood running towards where Eragon laid, Tamerlein scratching against the ground in her lax grip. When she neared him, a cry fought its way forth as she took in his appearance. He was lying in a large pool of blood that was soaking the ground a crimson red. Zar'roc was lodged firmly in his chest, the iridescent red blade gleaming. His face was uninjured but it was coated in blood and a small line was trickling down his chin. His eyes, she saw, was the soft brown that she had grown to adore. They were clear and lucid. And when they found her, she blinked her own eyes itching./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p5"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Falling to her knees by his side, she laid Tamerlein down against the ground as her hands moved towards Zar'roc. If she pulled out the blade, he was going to bleed to death. His wound was just too great. Was it possible? Could she save him? Of course, she could save him. She had to. Hearing Blodhgarm's approached she lifted her head, "No, go see to the dragons," she ordered her voice strained against the wave of emotions she was trying to hold at bay. If she lost it now, she wouldn't be able to help Eragon./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p6"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"They stared at her for a moment before assenting, acknowledging her silent request. Murtagh hesitated slightly, but at her expression he turned to continue in the direction where Thorn laid. She turned her attention back to Eragon and reached out to touch his wound, the one on his shoulder and healed it before moving her attention to his forearm, healing it as well. By the time she was done, her hands were coated in his blood./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p7"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"When she returned to the fatal injury caused by Zar'roc, she hesitated. There was no way to save someone from such an injury. His injury was far worse than Ajihad's back in Tronjheim. The sword had pierced his internal organs to the point that it was impossible to heal. The itching in her eyes increased and she felt an overwhelming amount of pain batter her heart./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p8"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"A warm and sticky hand reached up to still her shaking hands. She glanced down to find Eragon's pale hand, gripping hers, his eyes staring intently at her. His lips parted but as he tried to speak, a choking sound reached her ears. He coughed before trying again, "I heard you," he said it as if he was unaware of the red blade that impaled him./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p9"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;""You fought him off," she said, her voice thick. She blinked and found herself gripping Eragon's hands desperately./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p10"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;""Just for the moment," he spoke and more blood came pouring from his lips. She watched as he took in a deep breath, wincing slightly when it caused Zar'roc to move slightly./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p11"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;""Does it hurt, Eragon?" very softly, she rested her hands atop of his chest. His heartbeat was weak. Her own heart began to pound in her chest. It felt as if she was drowning and there was no way to the surface for air. Eragon was dying. There wasn't a way to save him despite the hope that she'd held that they would come across a cure for him. But he was too ill for her to be able to do so. She felt the corner of her lips curl downwards as she tried to prevent a cry from escaping./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p12"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"If she lost it now, it would alarm Eragon and she would be too far gone to do anything of use. He didn't answer her but instead turned his head upwards as if there was something in the sky that seemed to interest him. Brushing his hair from his eyes, she spoke softly, "What is it Eragon?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p13"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;""The sky…" he blinked, turning back to her. "It's…beautiful."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p14"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She nodded, "It is."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p15"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"He took in another breath, his chest heaving as his lungs fought to draw in air. He winced again, his eyes moving to Zar'roc. After a moment, he spoke again his voice soft but clear, "Arya…Zar'roc… remove Zar'roc."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p16"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Arya stared at him. Remove Zar'roc? If she did than he was going to bleed to his death. "I will not," she said, her voice pained. She wasn't going to quicken his death. Never. His brows furrowed lightly as he stared at her causing her to avert her gaze. His hands tightened as they held hers./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p17"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;""Please."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p18"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"His quiet request spoke volumes to her and she felt her own mind agree with him. It was his choice, his decision. Like when he had lied to her about the degree of his illness. She shook her head lightly. Now was not the time to think about it. Not staring at Eragon, she nodded slowly, releasing his hand to place it down beside his side./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p19"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Reaching out with her right hand, she gripped the pommel of Zar'roc, taking a deep breath. Then with a quick flick of her wrist, drew Zar'roc out of his chest. She heard his body move as the blade made its way out and a cry of agony met her ears followed by a squelch as the red liquid sprayed itself on her, coating her neck, arms, and hands in his blood. Sick to the stomach, she tossed the red blade to the side. It was a sign of her own misery./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p20"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Her hands immediately move to his chest to staunch the bleeding but the liquid was escaping through her fingers and coating the ground beneath him red. The puddle had grown drenching her knees in the dark liquid. Staining Tamerlein as well as it lay beside her. His breathing had grown ragged and his chest heaved frantically for air./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p21"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"As she kneeled beside him, hovering over him, she felt something within her break. Her eyes stung with a film of tears and against her will, one leaked from the corner of her eyes and fell onto his damaged chest. His face was pale underneath the coat of blood it was drenched in as he stared up at her. His expression was no longer pained but at peace…almost accepting./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p22"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;""Arya…"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p23"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She shook her head. It hurt, she thought, it hurt so much. Never did she think that she would lose another person dear to her to Galbatorix. First Glenwing and Faolin. Now, she was going to lose Eragon too. The agony of war, she was yet facing it another time./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p24"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She blinked when she felt his right hand, now growing cold; reach up to caress her cheek. Don't go, Eragon. She thought as she stared down at him. "I'm sorry." No, she didn't want to hear it. The goodbye that he wanted to say. As she tried to focus that was when she realized the warmth pressing against her side. Glancing down at the mirror that she'd slipped within her belt, she was surprised to find that it was glowing, the surface a beautiful blue./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p25"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Slipping it out of her belt, she gasped when it burned her lightly. Dropping the mirror, her hand which was drenched in Eragon's blood, had smeared the mirror with the crimson liquid. And to her surprise, the mirror seemed to glow even stronger as the glass surface seemed to react to the blood, absorbing it. What is it?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p26"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Eragon's sudden gasp drew her attention away from the mirror. She turned to him, his hand was clutching at his chest, over his heart, as if he was intent on clawing it out. His eyes, she saw flashed from brown to a purple and blue before back. "Eragon!" she reached out to him. What was happening to him? What more could hurt him?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p27"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"While she tried to calm him, the mirror which lay on the ground began to glow uncontrollably as the puddle of Eragon's blood had finally reached it, drenching the beautiful object in red./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p28"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Break it open./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p29"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"What?/span/emspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;" Where had that presence come from? That voice. Her eyes moved back and forth as she searched for the presence in her mind. But she wasn't able to pinpoint it. Then she felt it again, a vast and overwhelming power that held a multitude of voices and thoughts grasp at her mind, forcing her to their will./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p30"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She felt her hand move to grip Tamerlein. She felt her arm brought up in the air and arched down as the emerald blade sliced the mirror in half releasing a force so great that it was enough to knock Tamerlein from her hand. As soon as the mirror broke, the presence was gone. A loud screeching wind burst forth from the tiny object shooting into the air with tongues of blue flames. Without a second thought, she moved to cover Eragon who seemed to have fallen unconscious. What was going on? Straining her neck to watch the azure flames shoot into the sky a hundred feet into the air, she watched as it arched downwards before flying straight towards her and Eragon./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p31"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Closing her eyes as she expected the flames to burn her, she gasped when it passed through her, her vision fading into black as she toppled over and to the ground./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p32"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Falling…/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p33"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She was falling. Where was she? As she thought, she felt her heart jump in her chest. Eragon! Where was Eragon? Her eyes flew open as she gasped, her panic gripping her at the heart. Arya found herself staring at the withered stalks of rain lilies. This field of flowers…she'd seen it before. Moving to her feet, she frowned when she found that she was alone in a field of dead rain lilies./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p34"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Was she in Eragon's mind? Was this the same field as she'd walked in with him? It seemed highly unlikely seeing that the field was dead and dry. The flowers were wilted and withered as far as she could see. "Eragon?" she called into the void./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p35"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"There was no reply. This had to be his mind, but the state of it alarmed her. Was this Asura's doing? Hesitantly moving forward, she frowned when she heard the flowers crunched underneath her boots. It was a most saddening sight to behold./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p36"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Pushing forward, she thought back to the mirror. What was stored in it? It was so powerful and warm, those blue flames. And though it was the first time that she'd seen that object, it held an oddly familiar sense to it. Like she'd known what it was all this time. And what was that presence in her mind? It was so strong and powerful, it made her pause. But whoever it was, that person was gone now and it didn't matter if she pondered about the fact anymore./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p37"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She had to focus on finding Eragon and saving him. If she didn't, she was going to lose him, this she knew with a certainty. As she walked, she felt herself grow lost. There was no other way, for however long she continued the field of flowers continued. After what seemed like a good deal of time, did she stop unsure of whether or not to continue./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p38"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Where are you Eragon?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p39"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"That was when she heard a small cry, whirling about, she tried to find the source of the crying. There was no one in sight but she was positive that it was towards her right. After a brief contemplation, she moved forward towards the sound. It didn't take her long until she came upon a young boy barely eleven or twelve crouched in the field sniffling./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p40"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"His brown hair was a mess but his fine clothes struck a chord in her. She had seen this boy before. In Eragon's memories. She was positive of it. Reaching out to him, she gently laid her hand on his shoulder, "Eragon?"/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p41"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"He lifted his head, his tears abating as he saw her. It truly was Eragon, though younger. She stumbled slightly when he launched himself at her legs, his arms wrapping themselves around her as if he didn't want to let go. "Don't leave me!"/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p42"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Bewildered, she stared down at him. "Leave you?"/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p43"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"He nodded, the movement causing his head to rub against her leg. "I've been alone for so long," he murmured miserably. Arya stared down at him. Was he truly Eragon or a figment of Eragon's memories? But how could that be? Pulling away from him slightly, she knelt so that she was eye level with him, staring into his lost brown eyes./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p44"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;""emspan style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"Alone?" asked Arya softly./span/em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p45"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"He nodded, his bottom lip trembling, "It was all dark and scary," his voice shook, "I couldn't escape."/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p46"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Her heart tightened at his revelation before her mind registered what it was that he'd said. Escape? Glancing back at him, she felt her eyes widened. Was this the other half of Eragon's soul? That would make sense, when he was twelve, Saphira had hatched for him and that was when Asura was bound to his body. That meant that Jeremiah had half of his soul and heart all of this time. He was using its magic!/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p47"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Eyes returning to the Eragon that stood before her, she reached out to caress his cheek which was damp from his tears, "It must have been terribly frightening for you."/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p48"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"His brown eyes stared at her, on the brink of tearing up again. A passion like never before seemed to consume her as she pulled Eragon to her hugging him. "I won't leave you," said Arya determined, "You won't be alone ever again."/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p49"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She felt his breathing hitch against her shoulder before his hands came up to wrap around her neck, crying in earnest. For a child to feel so alone…She felt her anger grow and her eyes sting as she held him as he cried. After a moment he seemed to quiet and was merely intent on holding onto her. Seeing as he'd calmed down significantly, she made to pull away stopping when he shook his head against her shoulder. With a small smile, she bent down to pick him up and cradled him against her. Her supernatural strength made him feel as light as a feather./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p50"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;""emspan style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"Let's go find your other half," she said to Eragon./span/em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p51"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"He peeked up at her, his eyes were red but he nodded. Glancing about her, she frowned when the situation at hand was brought forth. How was she going to leave Eragon's mind? As she stood there a thought, a strange movement caught her eye. A hundred yards away, the wilted flowers began to crumble into black dust, the surrounding slowly fading away into a white void./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p52"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Her grip on Eragon tightened. What was happening? As it seemed to make its way towards them, she turned and with long strides began to run. His mind was falling apart. There was no doubt about it. As she ran with Eragon in her arms, she saw it a strange shift in the air before them and without thinking, she dove into it./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p53"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Stumbling slightly with the extra weight in her arms, she straightened herself when she saw that she was standing in a rather strange place. A vast red ocean stretched as far as she could see and the gray sky made her cautious. Ignoring the ominous feeling that she was getting, she stared at the odd ebony tentacles that protruded from the surface of the red ocean. Where was she? Off in the distance a figure straightened from its crouched position causing her to mistake it at first as a tentacle. The figure moved towards them slightly stumbling, its gait uneven as if one of its legs was broken or strained./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p54"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"As it moved closer, she saw the familiar chestnut hair but as he lifted his head, she was met with blue and purple eyes. Her lips thinned as she watched Asura move forward, injured she realized from the battle earlier. Her grip on Eragon tightened. "Welcome to my mind, Arya," when he spoke it was unnatural. His voice was strained and it gurgled every once and a while as his breath hitched./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p55"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She tensed, "Where is Eragon?"/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p56"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"He stared at her for a moment his eyes wide and dilated as he laughed. It was grating on her nerves to hear his demented laugh. After a while he pointed down towards the red liquid that they stood on, "Consumed by my madness, by my soul."/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p57"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Her eyes darted to the surface of the red liquid unable to make anything out before returning to Asura. She didn't trust him enough to take her eyes off of him. "He's too far gone to save." Asura grinned, "And even if you did, his body is too damaged. If only you knew what he'd planned, Arya. You might have been able to save him."/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p58"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him, but she kept her mouth firmly shut refusing to give into his taunting and remarks. "What will you do if you did save him?" Asura asked, with a grin as he bent down to twist his leg into place making a noise that made her frown./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p59"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She didn't reply to his question but instead stared at him. She wasn't going to let her anger be drawn out. It was true that she was beyond frustration when it came to the fact that Eragon had lied to her but she wasn't going to let that blind her. Not when his existence was at stake. "That feels much better," Asura said as his eyes traveled to Eragon who was clinging to her. "I have to thank you for bringing his other half here for me, it makes things much easier."/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p60"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She took a step back, "What are you talking about?"/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p61"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Asura stared at her for a moment before shrugging, "Seeing as you'll not make it out of my mind alive, I don't see the harm in telling you. You see, his other half is still young and as such a vibrant energy source," he pointed to the child in her arms, "If I can consume him than I could easily repair the damage those wretched servants of his did."/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p62"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"If he thought that she was simply going to hand over the other half of Eragon, he was wrong. Asura held his hands up to her, "May I have him?" his smile made her even more cautious./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p63"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;""emspan style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"Never," came her reply./span/em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p64"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"He wasn't fazed but laughed, shaking his head, "You've forgotten how the game works, Arya. Now that you're in my mind, you'll have to play by my rules." He grinned and whistled lightly./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p65"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"A movement from the corner of her eyes caught her attention. She jumped backwards, dodging the grab of a black tentacle as it fought to enclose around her feet. With Eragon in her hands it was difficult for her to fight him, leaving the only optional available to her: run. Dodging another tentacle, she turned to put as much distance as she could between her and Asura./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p66"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She didn't get far however when a barrier of tentacles began to ring them in. An image flashed in her mind and for a moment she saw a ring of fire surrounding her as she fought to escape Durza's grasp. She heard his approach rather than saw him. "Running won't help you, Arya."/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p67"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Turning to face him, she felt Eragon's grip on her tightened as he beheld the Asura. Then he glanced back at her. Whatever he seemed to see in her expression had strengthened his resolve to carry out his next action. "I trust you," he said with a small smile./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p68"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"What? Arya watched as he began to slowly fade away, his physical body disappearing leaving a glowing azure orb of light. This was the true appearance of the other half of Eragon's soul. Before Asura could make a grab for it, the orb of light flew towards her before disappearing into her chest. Gasping at the suddenness of it, she felt a slight presence cocooned in her mind, waiting for the moment to leave./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p69"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;""emspan style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"I didn't know a soul was that clever," Asura growled, staring at her. "No matter, I will have the other half even if that means I have to consume yours as well!"/span/em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p70"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"With that he lunged at her, his teeth bared in a rather feral smile. Her hands free to do what she wished, she rushed at him. The energy of the half of Eragon's soul was pulsing through her mind and veins; it was more than enough to defeat Asura./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p71"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Dodging a swipe to her head, she brought her hand up to slam it into the bottom of his chin roughly. The impact of her blow sent him flying backwards but he didn't wait to land on his back to continue his assault but rather flipped to land evenly on his feet, snapping his neck back and forth./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p72"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"He smiled at her./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p73"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Not letting him unsettle her, she moved forward only to be stopped when she felt a violent tug on her ankles. She had let her guard down for a mere second and that was all he needed to put her at a disadvantage. With a violent tug, she tried to pull herself free of the tentacles. But they didn't budge. Before she could do anything she felt a hard blow to her shoulder./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p74"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"As she was trying to regain her bearings, the tentacles gave another tug throwing her thirty yards. Landing her feet, she skidded to a halt just barely bringing her hands up in time to deflect another blow. Seeing an opening she brought up her leg to kick him, effectively hitting him in the gut. But it wasn't enough to kill him. How was she supposed to kill a spirit? The only way she could do so was to force it from Eragon's body./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p75"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Rushing forward, she brought up her hand and to say bluntly, punched him roughly in the jaw, her lips forming words in the ancient language. She didn't know what she said but she felt it again, the strong presence in her mind, forming the words on her lips. Three words came out that she couldn't comprehend but it worked for Asura gave a loud scream before disappearing./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p76"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Was it over? Her energy rapidly declining, she frowned when she felt herself sink into the red sea. What was going on? Then it came back to her. Eragon was underneath the surface consumed by Asura's soul and though he may be gone, his presence was still great enough to keep a hold on Eragon's soul. Ignoring the danger, she readily dove under the crimson sea./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p77"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"For some reason, there was no need to hold in her breath underneath the water and her eyes didn't sting. Continuing downward, she felt a warm tug in her heart; his soul must be realizing the other's proximity. Using her hands and feet to propel her deeper, she casted her mind out for Eragon in the darkness. Faintly, she felt him deep below her./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p78"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She didn't how long it was that she swam but after what seemed to be an eternity did she finally see him. He was falling downward unconscious to his surroundings. She swam towards him and as she reached him, extended her arms outwards to wrap them about his neck, hugging his head towards her shoulder./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p79"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Eragon, you have to wake up./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p80"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She gently nudged his thoughts willing him to open his eyes and break through the madness about them. There was a faint response but otherwise his consciousness remained in its deep slumber. Her grip on him tightened as they fell./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p81"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Open your eyes, Eragon; emspan style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"she called out to him as the warmth in her grew stronger trying to help her draw him out. Her own mind was beginning to succumb to the enveloping darkness as they fell. She felt him stir against her./span/em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p82"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Just a little more and he would be awake and able to break free. Lowering every barrier to her mind she allowed theirs to intertwine into such a degree that it felt like she was exposing herself inside out. She heard the faint music of his own mind which seemed to grown stronger as hers tried to awaken him. Their feelings became mixed, swirling about each other, encompassing one another./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p83"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Eragon…emspan style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"her heart spoke volumes compared to the words that her mind was trying to form. The tender feelings that she'd come to harbor for him, the pain at his deception, the grief at his situation, and the vast affection she felt for him. /span/emI love you./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p84"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She blinked trying fight against the heaviness in her eyelids as they continued to fall. That was when she felt him move. His arms came up to wrap themselves about her waist. And she felt him turn them about swimming towards the surface of the water. The warmth in her grew to an insurmountable heat suffusing her entire being./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p85"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Falling against the surface of the water, she frowned when her eyes became clear and focused. Where was she? Getting to her feet, her head turned to take in her surroundings. She was in the same place as before. But it was different. The water was a tranquil sapphire that sparkled and sprinkled over its surface were white rose petals. The sky wasn't gray anymore but instead a warm blue. This was Eragon's mind./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p86"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Turning about, she found Eragon collapsed on the surface of the water and beside him was his younger self, the other half of his heart. She moved towards the boy tentatively. He was hovering over Eragon with an expression of curiosity. When he heard her approach, he glanced up, "He's sleeping."/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p87"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She nodded, glancing at Eragon for a moment longer before returning to the younger version of him. "How are you feeling?" she asked as she crouched before him./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p88"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;""emspan style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"Confused," he said with a slightly embarrassed expression. "But I'm not alone."/span/em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p89"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;""emspan style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"Yes, you're not alone," agreed Arya. Then she glanced back at Eragon. What was she supposed to do now? How was she supposed to reunite his soul with his other half? /span/emYou must be the bridge to connect them./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p90"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She flinched as the multitude of minds entered her own once more. But she was not foolish enough to try to attack the person head on. However it was, she had to trust that they didn't mean her any harm seeing as they hadn't made any attempt to do so. /span/emspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"I do not understand./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p91"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"The presence paused before continuing, /span/emspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"his soul has been apart from its original body for too long now. So long that the soul is still that of a child while the body is that of an adult. There must be a bridge to connect the two without permanently harming Eragon./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p92"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"How?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p93"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"If your feelings for him are strong enough, than your soul can bridge that connection between the two. But I warn you, Arya Drottningu that it is irreversible if you attempt to do so./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p94"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She blinked as she stared down at Eragon, /span/emspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"what do you mean?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p95"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"To bridge a connection between both halves, it will use your own soul as the building block and if it works than your soul will also be connected to his, emspan style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"the presence paused in its explanation before continuing, /span/emyour soul will be the one to help chain his own soul to this reality. If you don't than his body will die and his soul will disappear./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p96"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Disappear?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p97"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Two halves of one soul cannot transcend the boundaries between the living and the dead. The gates to heaven will be closed to him and he will disappear from this world in its entirety./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p98"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She blinked; never would she allow that to happen. Glancing at Eragon for one more time, she nodded to herself. /span/emspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Let us do it./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p99"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Are you sure? If your soul becomes connected to him than you will be unable to separate it./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p100"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"If that's what it takes to rid him of Asura and save him then I will do it, emspan style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"she said with determination. She was willing to do anything if that was what it took to save Eragon./span/em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p101"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Very well, emspan style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"the presence didn't leave her but had quieted allowing her a moment to speak to the younger Eragon. Reaching out with her hand, she laid it atop of his head with a small smile, "Do you know who he is?" she gestured to the older Eragon./span/em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p102"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"He nodded, "My other half,"/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p103"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;""emspan style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"He's been waiting a long time for you to return to him," Arya said quietly as she watched the younger boy. He nodded again, his eyes bright as he regarded her with a curious expression./span/em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p104"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;""emspan style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"Am I going to disappear?" his questions was faint but in it she hear the fear in his tone. He was afraid, she knew, of being alone again of disappearing into Eragon completely and losing himself./span/em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p105"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"She reached out to brush her lips gently against his brow, "No, you will not disappear but you will be whole again and never alone," she answered, her voice soft./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p106"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Eragon stared at her, his eyes watering, "I'm ready."/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p107"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"As am I, emspan style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"she spoke directly to the presence in her mind. She felt it stir reaching forward into the deepest reach of her heart and mind and unlocking the door that held her essence. It was an experience she'd never felt before. She felt like she was floating from her body into a warmth that was familiar and welcoming./span/em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p108"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"No one else was there but Eragon. She felt his soul wrap about hers, intertwining with a part of her own soul as it reached out towards the other half of his soul. When the two came together, it nearly made her implode. Part of her soul was wrapped deep within Eragon's, now a part of him and she could feel a small part of him wrapped within her own soul./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p109"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Together they spun about one another, their souls dancing in and out of the other, chaining each other down to one another. The fiery dance continued taking them to a new level of intimacy that they'd yet to achieve./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p110"/aemspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"Then they began to slow until she felt her soul return to her own body, safe in the physical vessel that sheltered it. But as her soul parted from Eragon's she heard a soft murmur of words that was undoubtedly his, ring in her mind and soul./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 3.75pt 0cm 11.25pt 0cm;"a name="c52p111"/aspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"I love you, Arya./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 11.25pt; line-height: 15.6pt; background: #FCFCE8; vertical-align: baseline;"a name="c52p112"/astrongspan style="font-size: 10.5pt; font-family: 'Verdana',sans-serif; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: black; border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA;"So this is the ending. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. I absolutely loved this! Anyways, this conflict is resolved but the explanations will have to wait until the next chapter. I know, I'm cruel but I love it. The suspense that I can put you guys in! I can't promise an update tomorrow but there will be one this week./span/strong/p 


	55. Chapter 50

**I'm so sorry for the delayed update but this weekend is Asian New Years and my family is getting ready to celebrate. Anyways like I promised here is the long awaited chapter. It's not like the last few in that the angst and uncertainties are gone but I hope you'll all enjoy this.**

Before he woke, he knew that there was something different. He felt lighter and whole. It was a rather odd experience. Feeling a soft hand touch his cheek, he heard murmuring weaving in and out of his rather pleasant state. Then a voice was calling for him.

"Eragon."

It was Arya, he was positive that the voice calling for him was hers.

"Eragon," she called again.

Instead of waking, he tried to burrow deeper into the soft surface that he laid on. He didn't want to wake. Not now when he was having such a pleasant dream.

He heard another voice snort at his action, "You've slept enough, Eragon Shadeslayer. Awaken already before I slap you senseless!" There was a soft murmur of disagreement to the threat but he was not frightened in the least.

Instead, he was annoyed beyond anything. This was not a dream for he would never allow Angela into a dream that already had Arya in it. Blinking, he frowned when a soft light flooding in from the small flap in the tent entrance hit his eyes, momentarily blinding him.

He was lying on a rather comfortable cot and it took his to realize that the tent that he was in was his own tent. The small table in the center was clustered with weapons: his sword, bow, and quiver. And occupying the stool next to his bed was Arya. But she seemed different for some reason. Hovering over him with a suspicious bowl in her hand that was steaming a nasty murky yellow was Angela the herbalist.

She was staring down at him with bright eyes and a faint smile, "And look who decides to join us from the dead," she said reaching down to widen his right eye with her thumb and forefinger. He grimaced as the air stung his eye, relieved when she let go. "Everything seems quite normal with you." Her eyes darted to Arya, who was pointedly ignoring her stare, "At least on the outside."

Holding the bowl under his nose, he frowned as she hit his lips rather roughly with the object, "Drink up then, you'll need it if you want to go down the road of swift recovery." Trusting the herbalist more than he should, he reached out to take the bowl from her hands before drinking the liquid. He nearly gagged and was about to toss it out before another hand reached out to hold the bowl steady against his lips. Knowing that it was Arya who was assisting him he reluctantly continued to down the substance. With a great gulp, he swallowed the remaining drops nearly retching as the foul taste of rotten eggs and spoiled milk erupted in his mouth.

"Good, good," said Angela as she retrieved the bowl to set it aside before handing him a wineskin filled with water. Gratefully taking it, he took a long drink until he felt like he was bursting from the seams with the extra amount of water intake. "How are you feeling?"

He coughed before answering, his voice creaking from disuse, "Different."

Angela nodded, thoughtful. "As it should be." She turned and began to bustle about his tent. "I must say when I called your brother an idiot, I didn't expect for you to take on the ropes. That was the most ridiculous request I've heard in my entire life. Honestly, what were you expecting when you asked that of your servants?"

He blinked staring at her, "How do you know?"

"I know everything," said Angela with a reprimanding look. "Dying does not make the problem go away, Eragon. Surely you knew that."

"It seemed like the best possible solution at that time," said Eragon simply as he coughed trying to clear his throat again. "Where are they? My servants?"

"Waiting patiently outside for you to awake, it's been a rather long two days," said Angela. His eyes widened as he stared at her. Two days? He'd been unconscious for two days? It felt as if he was out for only an hour or so. "Your injuries were nowhere near light, if it wasn't for Arya you would've been teetering on the edge of existence."

He frowned. What did Arya do? Before he could ask the short curly haired woman anymore questions, she flashed him another bright smile. "You be a good dear now and rest up. Or try to after your elf is done with you and then your dragon, mother, and your liege lord. My, my, my, we may just have to bury you after all once they have their way."

Somewhat alarmed he watched as she threw open the tent flap before bustling away as if she was in a great hurry leaving him with Arya. Throughout the whole time that he was awake she hadn't said a word to him nor had she looked at him. Feeling rather cautious, he moved to sit up flinching slightly when his chest burned in protest. Pulling the sheets back slightly, he saw that his entire torso was bandaged.

He hadn't expected that. Reaching forward lightly, he touched his chest wincing when he felt sharp daggers of pain erupt in the area where he had touched it. It hurt quite a lot. "Blodhgarm's managed to heal the damage but you have to give it time or else the wound will open up again."

It was the first time she had spoken to him when he had waked. He turned to her to find that she was now facing him her eyes indiscernible. What was he supposed to do? Where were Eridor and Saphira when he needed them. Wait…where were they?

"The dragons are hunting, they'll be back soon," answered Arya her emerald eyes showing signs of exhaustion. Ignoring the pain, he moved into a sitting position as he turned to face Arya. There were no secrets now. Not anymore. "The battle with Galbatorix's men has been over and the Varden has been recovering since. Your cousin, Roran, had decided that he would marry once you've awakened and are well enough to attend."

He frowned as she was deliberately avoiding the subject at hand. Not one for patience, he stared at her with such an openness it would have been insulting if it weren't for the fact that he was her mate. "And what of you Arya?" Eragon asked softly.

He saw the skin around her eyes tighten and her hands shake slightly. He knew her long enough to know that these were signs that showed that she was immensely distressed. "What will you have me say?" her words were those in the ancient language and they came out harsh and biting. "That everything is well and merry?"

He stared at her; he had only seen her mad once and that was after he had sworn his first meeting with the council of elders. She seemed very close, he thought, to hitting him. But if she did, it would immensely relieve him. Trying to seek words to expression his feelings, did Eragon tentatively speak, "I am sorry for deceiving you about my condition," he stared into Arya's eyes unwavering, "And I am sorry for the request at the time, it seemed to be the only option left available to me."

She sighed before standing to pace before him. If she was angry before, she was furious at the moment. He had never seen her so agitated. "If you went forth with your condition we would've been able to help you. Is it too much to let go of your hubris to acknowledge that, Eragon? That sometimes even you would need help?"

He felt his own temper being to rise, "I thought what I was doing was best. How could you have helped me?"

She turned to him, pinching the bridge of her nose as if she had a migraine. "Anyway I could have if you had just let me. How did you think Saphira felt when she heard from the others of your foolish request? How do you think your brother felt?"

He frowned, knowing that she was right in saying so. "You were being selfish," Arya said.

"I was not," he denied, resolute in the fact that what he was trying to accomplish was for the benefit of his loved ones. "I was trying to protect the people I love from the monster I was becoming. There was no other way around it Arya. I was running out of time!"

"Be that as it may," she said her voice low and dangerous, "You should not have lied so. How do you think relationships work if you base them off of lies? What happens to the trust that others have for you when they find out that they'd been lied to?" He blinked seeing the toll of the past few days on Arya. It looked as if she needed more rest than he did.

"Arya—"

"No!" He instantly quieted, he had dealt with angered women much of his life, from his mother to Saphira to his servants, and he knew when an inevitable explosion was coming. This was one of those times, though it was rarely expected. "Why are you always so reluctant to allow others to help you? Why do you always have to take on the burden by yourselves? Do you believe us incompetent?" he opened his mouth to protest but she thunderously continued as if trying to vent all of her pent up frustration. "Did you not believe in your own future? Is that why you choose death over living?"

"That's not true!" he exclaimed, surprised that she would even think that. "I would never give up living knowing that the people I leave behind would suffer beyond anything else."

"Then why?" she asked quietly.

His shoulders slumped as he tried to think of an answer, "I was weak," he finally said in a low tone, unable to meet her eyes. "I didn't want to worry you over my condition. I was afraid of the fact that I would have to leave you, Saphira, my mother, and all those I cared about. And so I thought that it would be easier to just ignore it altogether." He sighed rubbing his face with his right hand. "I'm sorry."

"Eragon," she knelt before him, her head lifted so that she could stare at him from his slumped position, which made his chest burn. Her hands came up to take rest on either side of face. "Do not let fear overwhelm you. We are here to help you no matter how hopeless the cause is. If you do not try then how will you know the outcome?"

"I just didn't want to burden you," he murmured quietly.

"You will never be a burden to me or those who care about you," said Arya gently, her previous anger gone. "You have seen to it that those about you are happy but you won't allow yourself happiness. I want to see you happy; everyone wants to see you happy. Why can't you see that? Depend on us, Eragon. We are here for you."

He blinked feeling his eyes water and tried to lift his head from Arya's grasp but she kept a firm grip on him, her green eyes abnormally bright. "Believe in me, Eragon," she smiled and the next words she said shocked him to the core. "For I love you."

He blinked and to his irritation tears began to follow from his eyes at her words. It was as if nothing else in the world matter but Arya at the moment. That all of his life he had been running but this moment with her, he was able to finally slow to a walk. Burying his head against her neck he cried for the first time in a long time within her arms. His lungs heaved and his chest hurt but he didn't care. The past few weeks were just too great for him to reign in. He had to let it go.

In the back of his mind, he felt embarrassed for being so incapable of controlling his emotions but Arya didn't seem to mind his tears as she held him in her embrace. After a moment, he calmed until he felt an agonizing pounding in his head from his frustration and tears. Pulling away from her, he sniffed wiping at his face as he caught her eyes.

She was smiling up at him softly as if her confession had lightened her being as much as it did his. He tried to regain his breath and said rather unevenly, "As I you," he blinked again, coughing, feeling his face flush and his ears grow red. "I love you, Arya."

She bestowed upon him a gorgeous smile before her expression became more serious. Standing, she went to resume her seat on the stool as she motion for him to lie down, propping his pillows up against his back so he didn't strain his chest muscle. "Though I am still angered about your deception, I must admit that to see you so well and recovering makes me beyond euphoric."

He snorted; she still looked like she wanted to badly hit him. When she asked about the source of his amusement, his explanation made her smile slightly. "I would be lying if I said that I did not want to, but seeing as you are recovering I can make this one exception. But see to it that you make note of this, Eragon Shadeslayer."

"Nen ono weohnata, Arya Drottningu." _As you will, Princess Arya._

She nodded for a moment, satisfied before her expression grew curious, "Do you feel any different Eragon?"

"My chest aches and my muscles are stiff, other than that I do not think so."

"No, not physically but mentally. Just think for a moment and tell me what you feel," she stared at him her eyes hard, giving him no choice but to contemplate her words. Concentrating on his mind, he tried to block out every other thought and emotion coming from the direction of the Varden's main body. But there was this one part in which he couldn't block.

The familiar eerie melody softly floated through his thoughts and soul, weaving in and out of his own minds. And he felt it, a presence that was not his own but yet intertwined with him. It was a soft and warm presence, touching his chest he glanced at Arya surprised. Other than that he felt stronger mentally and whole. "What do you feel?" Arya asked.

"You," it came out bluntly and feeling as he had offended her, he went to explain but she merely shook her head.

"That was to be expected," she murmured lightly, her own hand coming to rest over her heart.

"What was to be expected?"

"That you would feel a part of me, no matter what," she answered throwing him into a world of confusion. He stared at her no comprehending what she was saying. "When you were dying…I found the other half of your soul which Jeremiah was carrying with him and it was locked away in this mirror. So when I destroyed it, your soul dragged mine into your body. I did not know what to do or how to reconnect your souls but this presence told me that I had to connect my own soul with yours to save you."

"So you used your soul to reunite my own?" Eragon asked at a loss for words.

Her eyes were downcast as she nodded, "I had no other choice," her voice grew lightly strained, "If you preferred that I did not—"

"Never!" Eragon said reaching out to grip her hands as he felt a part of her emotions flow through him. Though she didn't show it on her expression, he felt her hesitation and nervousness. "Though I think you might come to regret it someday."

She glanced up to give him a questioning glance, "Why's that?"

"Because now you can never get rid of me," said Eragon simply.

Her lips curved into a smile, "I do not plan to, you and I are mates…this just solidifies that fact even more so than before."

Trying to keep his own happiness at bay, he could feel the effects his emotions were having on Arya. She shifted lightly in her seat her muscles relaxed and her expression light. The only way to perfect the moment was if he could lean forward to kiss her lightly but his chest hurt too much. As the emotion passed through him, Arya raised a brow at him.

"Sorry," for some reason, with his other half reunited; he felt a stronger pull towards Arya. It was too hard not to ignore. She laughed before acquiescing to his silent request. Leaning forward, she lightly kissed him and as he raised his head to deepen the contact she pulled away much to his disappointment.

"Angela had told me to make sure that you do not overexert yourself," said Arya at his expression. He frowned. He did not see where that fell under overexertion. _Curse you, Angela_. He blinked when Arya laughed again and he felt his face flush, his emotions must have washed over her to his slight embarrassment.

They were constantly aware of each other now and of the other's emotions. It was as much as a blessing as it was a curse. He was never going to be able to hide his emotions behind a mask of indifference when it came to Arya anymore.

Their souls were intertwined…

"What happened to Asura?" Eragon asked finally remembering about the spirit.

Her expression grew into one of pleasure piquing his curiosity. "His soul was consumed by yours," she said as her fingers glided over the skin of his right hand. "When your other half was reunited with you, and then intertwined with mine, the force of it consumed his soul in the merging. His was too weak to fend off our combined powers. Not only that but you've inherited his powers."

"Powers?"

"The injury that you sustained was too much for magic to heal but Asura's magic healed the muscle and the skin within mere seconds, something that would take even an elf a minute or two to do," said Arya.

He stared down at his chest surprised; he had not expected that in the least. How ironic it was that Asura had been determined to consume his soul but had ended up being consumed by him instead. He snorted, "For some reason, I think I've gone mad."

"Hmm?"

"My soul is back, my wound healed, and my soul a part of your own," stated Eragon. "I don't think I've ever been happier than I am now." He thought for a moment before smiling at her. "And I love you."

"I think I've known for a while," Arya said quietly, "That my feelings for you were more than just merely ardor. I am glad, however that we both know and see it." She laced their fingers together. "Be that as it may, you are not out of the flames just yet Eragon."

He didn't have the chance to ask what it was that she meant as a roar sounded overhead, causing frightful shouts to erupt from the Varden's tents. Ten seconds later the ground shook as a heavy body landed on it and his tent flap was pushed aside as Saphira snaked her head in, ignoring the furnishings she crushed in the way.

Eragon nearly jumped when she snapped her jaws angrily at him but Arya remained still as if she did not see the anger of the dragon before her.

_You fool! _He winced when he felt her voice thunder in his mind, far from happy. A small jet of flames leapt from her maw, nearly singeing his cheek.

"Saphira," Arya said softly as she put out the fire that caught on the corner of his tent.

_I've waited for two agonizing days for him to wake and now that he is, I will make sure he hears what I have to say! _Saphira roared. _How could you do that to me, Eragon?_

He closed his eyes lightly as her pain, anger, and grief washed over him through their connection. Arya's soul that was intertwined with his own flared slightly coming forth to shelter him from the torrent of emotions. It was able to ease the pain, if only momentarily.

_How could you? _She repeated. _Why did you lie to me?_

_Because I wanted to protect you! _Eragon said both verbally and mentally. _I didn't want to see you saddened over my condition, over what Asura was doing to me! I love you Saphira, and I just didn't want to see you hurt!_

_Protect me? I am a dragon, do not forget that Eragon! I am your dragon, it is my duty to protect you, _her anger dimmed slightly, _but you didn't feel the need to honor our bond anymore._

_That's not true! I'm honored to be your rider, I'm honored that you'd hatched for me! I didn't deserve you, Saphira. All I've done since you've had hatched was drag my feet through my life. I was chaining you to the ground when you could take to the skies._

_Eragon, you idiot, _Saphira said her thoughts a mix of exasperation and anger. _I don't see you as a burden, I'm your dragon and I want to fly with you, always. Use my wings for you have none and I shall take you wherever you wish. I love you and it just hurt too much when Desdemona told me of your request._

_I—I'm sorry, _it sounded meek, even to his own ears but he couldn't find another way to word it. _Never again, shall I deceive you Saphira…I understand if you're angry at me._

_Angry? _She snorted; _angry does not even come close to describing my feelings towards you at the moment. If you weren't injured, I would've thrown you on your head…until I felt better._

Unable to help himself, he laughed at her words promptly easing her anger, she huffed slightly, _at least you are whole now._

_Am I different?_

_You are still you; _her sapphire eyes bore into him before she blinked satisfied with what she saw. She turned her head slightly, knocking over his table to stare at Arya. _I'm afraid you'll have to always keep one eye trained on him from now on Arya._

"As long as you are watching him with another then it will be an easy task," Arya said with a slight smile. "And if he does do anything to anger us, we shall make do on our threats Saphira."

She snorted with amusement before opening her maw light to lick Eragon's cheek with her tongue, he blinked, _recover swiftly Eragon, I shall be nearby with Eridor if you need me._

_Fly safe._

_Rest well, _she withdrew her head effectively crushing his table as well as ripping the tent flap with one of her spikes. He sighed falling against his pillow. All that was left was to face his family and Nasuada. It was a good thing he was injured for he was sure that Arya and Saphira really would have attacked him if he wasn't.

"She wasn't really going to attack you," Arya said lightly at his disgruntled expression.

"I am not quite sure that I agree with you," he rolled to her slightly, somewhat restless that he had to continue to rest in bed. "When will my chest fully heal?"

"Another day most likely, the muscles and bones that you tore are still freshly healed and if you irritate them, it will hurt," her free hand came up to trace the lining of his sheets against his chest stopping in the middle of his torso.

That was when he realized that he was entirely bared underneath the sheets. Heat flushed through him. "Do not worry, Angela did not attend to cleansing the filth from your body," said Arya as if reading his mind.

He glanced at her, she smiled, "I took the liberty to do so."

If anything, he grew more mortified as he stared at her, his mouth agape. She took the liberty? That meant that she saw—well everything! Unable to stare at her anymore, he rolled away from her, turning his back to Arya, mortified. He heard her make a sound between a scoff and a laugh before the feeling of her hands on his back and arms made his skin tingle.

"Eragon, it was necessary, you reeked terribly and Angela did not want to tend to a patient who smelt like the dead," he refused to turn to her, her words causing his embarrassment to peak.

He felt a light kiss under his ear and his resolve slightly wavered. No, he had to remain steadfast. Feeling Arya's amusement swirl within him, he tried to move away from her. Her arms came to wrap around his torso lightly careful not to inflame his healed chest and he felt her nose nuzzle his neck. _Don't give in, Eragon. _He told himself.

He lay there, refusing to give into temptation. He was still mortified by the fact that she was the one to bathe and clean him. "You are being foolish, Eragon," she whispered lightly against his skin. He fought the urge to snort when he felt her smile against his neck he knew that she felt his emotions through their link. A kiss was pressed against his neck. "You've seen me once…devoid of a shirt."

That was true, when he went to fetch her from Durza, she was half dressed. A different kind of heat stirred within him. "Not on purpose," he protested weakly as her right hand began to trace the contours of his muscles.

"For me as well, you see," she kissed his jaw. "Angela demanded that you were to be bathed before she can continue to oversee you. And Nasuada had planned for one to do so," she kissed his chin. "You must understand how the thought of having another woman bathing you must have felt to me," somewhere in his dazed mind he thought of how annoyed Arya might have been. A kiss to the corner of his lips erased the thought from his mind. "Surely you would not let another take such a liberty if you were in my position," just the thought of someone other than him seeing Arya made his blood boil. His hand which had came to rest on her hip as she half laid on him tightened. This time she kissed him, her lips brushing against his own.

He responded quite brutally to her kiss, the thought still stuck on his mind as he raised his head to deepen the kiss, finally feeling her tongue brushing against his. When they broke apart, he was panting slightly as he stared up into her eyes. A corner of her lips was drawn into a smirk as she studied him.

"You should not worry too much Eragon," her emerald eyes twinkled. "You are beautiful."

He blinked. She thought he was beautiful, he thought with a touch of pride. Suddenly forgetting his initial embarrassment, he reached up to kiss her again. "I love you," the words came out without hesitation or doubt.

"And I you,"

She spent another hour with him before giving him a tonic in which he was to drink that made his rather drowsy. Before he fell into the warm embrace of sleep, he vaguely smelt the fragrance of spice and crushed pine needles in his nose as she'd bent down to kiss him light on his brow.

"Sleep well, Eragon."

**So what do you think? I've been dying to write an AxE moment. And I love it! I hope you all do too. But anyways, leave me your reviews! Don't forget that the plot shall be picking up quite steadily from now on!**


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